Two Households
by lonesorceress2209
Summary: Final Fantasy VIII Romeo & Juliet style. This fic is for those who love Shakespeare's tragedy and Square's FFVIII. Follow Squall & Rinoa through the trials and tribulations of love that lead to a tragic end for both. R&R! Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I own nothing in this story other than the idea to incorporate the FFVIII characters into Shakespeare's most famous play. So without further ado, I give you: Two Households! Enjoy!

ACT I

**ACT I  
PROLOGUE  
Two households, both alike in dignity,  
In fair Galbadia, where we lay our scene,  
From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,  
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.  
From forth the fatal loins of these two foes  
A pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life;  
Whole misadventured piteous overthrows  
Do with their death bury their parents' strife.  
The fearful passage of their death-mark'd love,  
And the continuance of their parents' rage,  
Which, but their children's end, nought could remove,  
Is now the two hours' traffic of our stage;  
The which if you with patient ears attend,  
What here shall miss, our toil shall strive to mend.**

SCENE I. Galbadia. A public place.

Enter Watts and Zone, of the house of Caraway, armed with swords and bucklers

**Watts ****  
Zone, o' my word, we'll not carry coals.**

**Zone****  
No, for then we should be colliers.**

**Watts****  
I mean, an we be in choler, we'll draw.**

**ZONE****  
Ay, while you live, draw your neck out o' the collar.**

**WATTS****  
I strike quickly, being moved.**

**ZONE****  
But thou art not quickly moved to strike.**

**WATTS****  
A dog of the house of Loire moves me.**

**ZONE****  
To move is to stir; and to be valiant is to stand:  
therefore, if thou art moved, thou runn'st away.**

**WATTS****  
A dog of that house shall move me to stand: I will  
take the wall of any man or maid of Loire's.**

**ZONE****  
That shows thee a weak slave; for the weakest goes  
to the wall.**

**WATTS****  
True; and therefore women, being the weaker vessels,  
are ever thrust to the wall: therefore I will push  
Loire's men from the wall, and thrust his maids  
to the wall.**

**ZONE****  
The quarrel is between our masters and us their men.**

**WATTS****  
'Tis all one, I will show myself a tyrant: when I  
have fought with the men, I will be cruel with the  
maids, and cut off their heads.**

**ZONE****  
The heads of the maids?**

**WATTS ****  
Ay, the heads of the maids, or their maidenheads;  
take it in what sense thou wilt.**

**ZONE ****  
They must take it in sense that feel it.**

**WATTS****  
Me they shall feel while I am able to stand: and  
'tis known I am a pretty piece of flesh.**

**ZONE ****  
'Tis well thou art not fish; if thou hadst, thou  
hadst been poor John. Draw thy tool! here comes  
two of the house of the Loires.**

**WATTS****  
My naked weapon is out: quarrel, I will back thee.**

**ZONE****  
How! turn thy back and run?**

**WATTS ****  
Fear me not.**

**ZONE****  
No, marry; I fear thee!**

**WATTS****  
Let us take the law of our sides; let them begin.**

**ZONE****  
I will frown as I pass by, and let them take it as  
they list.**

**WATTS ****  
Nay, as they dare. I will bite my thumb at them;  
which is a disgrace to them, if they bear it.**

Enter

**XU**** and ****SELPHIE**

XU  
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?

**WATTS****  
I do bite my thumb, Madam.**

**XU****  
Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?**

**WATTS ****  
Aside to ZONE Is the law of our side, if I say  
ay?**

**ZONE****  
No.**

**WATTS ****  
No, Ma'am, I do not bite my thumb at you, Madam, but I  
bite my thumb, Madam.**

**ZONE****  
Do you quarrel, Madam?**

**XU****  
Quarrel sir! no, sir.**

**WATTS****  
If you do, Madam, I am for you: I serve as good a man as you.**

**XU****  
No better.**

**WATTS****  
Well, Madam.**

**ZONE ****  
Say 'better:' here comes one of my master's kinsmen.**

**WATTS****  
Yes, better, Madam.**

**XU ****  
You lie.**

**WATTS****  
Draw, if you be women. Zone, remember thy swashing blow.**

They fight

Enter

**ZELL****ZELL****  
Part, fools!  
Put up your swords; you know not what you do.**

Beats down their swords

Enter

**SEIFER****SEIFER ****  
What, art thou drawn among these heartless hinds?  
Turn thee, Zell, look upon thy death.**

**ZELL****  
I do but keep the peace: put up thy sword,  
Or manage it to part these men with me.**

**SEIFER****  
What, drawn, and talk of peace! I hate the word,  
As I hate hell, all Loires, and thee:  
Have at thee, coward!**

They fight

Enter, several of both houses, who join the fray; then enter Citizens, with clubs

**First Citizen****  
Clubs, bills, and partisans! strike! beat them down!  
Down with the Caraways! down with the Loires!**

Enter

**CARAWAY**** in his gown, and ****LADY****CARAWAY****CARAWAY****  
What noise is this? Give me my long sword, ho!**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
A crutch, a crutch! why call you for a sword?**

**CARAWAY****  
My sword, I say! Old Loire is come,  
And flourishes his blade in spite of me.**

Enter

**LOIRE**** and ****LADY****LOIRE****LOIRE****  
Thou villain Caraway,-Hold me not, let me go.**

**LADY****LOIRE****  
Thou shalt not stir a foot to seek a foe.**

Enter

**PRINCE****, with Attendants**

**PRINCE****  
Rebellious subjects, enemies to peace,  
Profaners of this neighbour-stained steel,-  
Will they not hear? What, ho! you men, you beasts,  
That quench the fire of your pernicious rage  
With purple fountains issuing from your veins,  
On pain of torture, from those bloody hands  
Throw your mistemper'd weapons to the ground,  
And hear the sentence of your moved prince.  
Three civil brawls, bred of an airy word,  
By thee, old Caraway, and Loire,  
Have thrice disturb'd the quiet of our streets,  
And made Galbadia's ancient citizens  
Cast by their grave beseeming ornaments,  
To wield old partisans, in hands as old,  
Canker'd with peace, to part your canker'd hate:  
If ever you disturb our streets again,  
Your lives shall pay the forfeit of the peace.  
For this time, all the rest depart away:  
You Caraway; shall go along with me:  
And, Loire, come you this afternoon,  
To know our further pleasure in this case,  
To old Free-town, our common judgment-place.  
Once more, on pain of death, all men depart.**

Exeunt all but

**LOIRE****, ****LADY****LOIRE****, and ****ZELL****LOIRE****  
Who set this ancient quarrel new abroach?  
Speak, nephew, were you by when it began?**

**ZELL****  
Here were the servants of your adversary,  
And yours, close fighting ere I did approach:  
I drew to part them: in the instant came  
The fiery Seifer, with his sword prepared,  
Which, as he breathed defiance to my ears,  
He swung about his head and cut the winds,  
Who nothing hurt withal hiss'd him in scorn:  
While we were interchanging thrusts and blows,  
Came more and more and fought on part and part,  
Till the prince came, who parted either part.**

**LADY****LOIRE****  
O, where is Squall? saw you him to-day?  
Right glad I am he was not at this fray.**

**ZELL****  
Madam, an hour before the worshipp'd sun  
Peer'd forth the golden window of the east,  
A troubled mind drave me to walk abroad;  
Where, underneath the grove of sycamore  
That westward rooteth from the city's side,  
So early walking did I see your son:  
Towards him I made, but he was ware of me  
And stole into the covert of the wood:  
I, measuring his affections by my own,  
That most are busied when they're most alone,  
Pursued my humour not pursuing his,  
And gladly shunn'd who gladly fled from me.**

**LOIRE****  
Many a morning hath he there been seen,  
With tears augmenting the fresh morning dew.  
Adding to clouds more clouds with his deep sighs;  
But all so soon as the all-cheering sun  
Should in the furthest east begin to draw  
The shady curtains from Aurora's bed,  
Away from the light steals home my heavy son,  
And private in his chamber pens himself,  
Shuts up his windows, locks far daylight out  
And makes himself an artificial night:  
Black and portentous must this humour prove,  
Unless good counsel may the cause remove.**

**ZELL****  
My noble uncle, do you know the cause?**

**LOIRE****  
I neither know it nor can learn of him.**

**ZELL****  
Have you importuned him by any means?**

**LOIRE****  
Both by myself and many other friends:  
But he, his own affections' counsellor,  
Is to himself-I will not say how true-  
But to himself so secret and so close,  
So far from sounding and discovery,  
As is the bud bit with an envious worm,  
Ere he can spread his sweet leaves to the air,  
Or dedicate his beauty to the sun.  
Could we but learn from whence his sorrows grow.  
We would as willingly give cure as know.**

Enter

**SQUALL****ZELL****  
See, where he comes: so please you, step aside;  
I'll know his grievance, or be much denied.**

**LOIRE****  
I would thou wert so happy by thy stay,  
To hear true shrift. Come, madam, let's away.**

Exeunt

**LOIRE**** and ****LADY****LOIRE****ZELL****  
Good-morrow, cousin.**

**SQUALL****  
Is the day so young?**

**ZELL****  
But new struck nine.**

**SQUALL****  
Ay me! sad hours seem long.  
Was that my father that went hence so fast?**

**ZELL****  
It was. What sadness lengthens Squall's hours?**

**SQUALL****  
Not having that, which, having, makes them short.**

**ZELL****  
In love?**

**SQUALL****  
Out-**

**ZELL****  
Of love?**

**SQUALL****  
Out of her favour, where I am in love.**

**ZELL****  
Alas, that love, so gentle in his view,  
Should be so tyrannous and rough in proof!**

**SQUALL****  
Alas, that love, whose view is muffled still,  
Should, without eyes, see pathways to his will!  
Where shall we dine? O me! What fray was here?  
Yet tell me not, for I have heard it all.  
Here's much to do with hate, but more with love.  
Why, then, O brawling love! O loving hate!  
O any thing, of nothing first create!  
O heavy lightness! serious vanity!  
Mis-shapen chaos of well-seeming forms!  
Feather of lead, bright smoke, cold fire,  
sick health!  
Still-waking sleep, that is not what it is!  
This love feel I, that feel no love in this.  
Dost thou not laugh?**

**ZELL****  
No, coz, I rather weep.**

**SQUALL****  
Good heart, at what?**

**ZELL****  
At thy good heart's oppression.**

**SQUALL****  
Why, such is love's transgression.  
Griefs of mine own lie heavy in my breast,  
Which thou wilt propagate, to have it prest  
With more of thine: this love that thou hast shown  
Doth add more grief to too much of mine own.  
Love is a smoke raised with the fume of sighs;  
Being purged, a fire sparkling in lovers' eyes;  
Being vex'd a sea nourish'd with lovers' tears:  
What is it else? a madness most discreet,  
A choking gall and a preserving sweet.  
Farewell, my coz.**

**ZELL****  
Soft! I will go along;  
An if you leave me so, you do me wrong.**

**SQUALL****  
Tut, I have lost myself; I am not here;  
This is not Squall, he's some other where.**

**ZELL****  
Tell me in sadness, who is that you love.**

**SQUALL****  
What, shall I groan and tell thee?**

**ZELL****  
Groan! why, no.  
But sadly tell me who.**

**SQUALL****  
Bid a sick man in sadness make his will:  
Ah, word ill urged to one that is so ill!  
In sadness, cousin, I do love a woman.**

**ZELL****  
I aim'd so near, when I supposed you loved.**

**SQUALL****  
A right good mark-man! And she's fair I love.**

**ZELL****  
A right fair mark, fair coz, is soonest hit.**

**SQUALL****  
Well, in that hit you miss: she'll not be hit  
With Cupid's arrow; she hath Dian's wit;  
And, in strong proof of chastity well arm'd,  
From love's weak childish bow she lives unharm'd.  
She will not stay the siege of loving terms,  
Nor bide the encounter of assailing eyes,  
Nor ope her lap to saint-seducing gold:  
O, she is rich in beauty, only poor,  
That when she dies with beauty dies her store.**

**ZELL****  
Then she hath sworn that she will still live chaste?**

**SQUALL****  
She hath, and in that sparing makes huge waste,  
For beauty starved with her severity  
Cuts beauty off from all posterity.  
She is too fair, too wise, wisely too fair,  
To merit bliss by making me despair:  
She hath forsworn to love, and in that vow  
Do I live dead that live to tell it now.**

**ZELL****  
Be ruled by me, forget to think of her.**

**SQUALL****  
O, teach me how I should forget to think.**

**ZELL****  
By giving liberty unto thine eyes;  
Examine other beauties.**

**SQUALL****  
'Tis the way  
To call hers exquisite, in question more:  
These happy masks that kiss fair ladies' brows  
Being black put us in mind they hide the fair;  
He that is strucken blind cannot forget  
The precious treasure of his eyesight lost:  
Show me a mistress that is passing fair,  
What doth her beauty serve, but as a note  
Where I may read who pass'd that passing fair?  
Farewell: thou canst not teach me to forget.**

**ZELL****  
I'll pay that doctrine, or else die in debt.**

Exeunt

SCENE II. A street.

Enter

**CARAWAY****, ****NIDA****, and ****Servant****  
****CARAWAY****  
But Loire is bound as well as I,  
In penalty alike; and 'tis not hard, I think,  
For men so old as we to keep the peace.**

**NIDA****  
Of honourable reckoning are you both;  
And pity 'tis you lived at odds so long.  
But now, my lord, what say you to my suit?**

**CARAWAY****  
But saying o'er what I have said before:  
My child is yet a stranger in the world;  
She hath not seen the change of fourteen years,  
Let two more summers wither in their pride,  
Ere we may think her ripe to be a bride.**

**NIDA****  
Younger than she are happy mothers made.**

**CARAWAY****  
And too soon marr'd are those so early made.  
The earth hath swallow'd all my hopes but she,  
She is the hopeful lady of my earth:  
But woo her, gentle Nida, get her heart,  
My will to her consent is but a part;  
An she agree, within her scope of choice  
Lies my consent and fair according voice.  
This night I hold an old accustom'd feast,  
Whereto I have invited many a guest,  
Such as I love; and you, among the store,  
One more, most welcome, makes my number more.  
At my poor house look to behold this night  
Earth-treading stars that make dark heaven light:  
Such comfort as do lusty young men feel  
When well-apparell'd April on the heel  
Of limping winter treads, even such delight  
Among fresh female buds shall you this night  
Inherit at my house; hear all, all see,  
And like her most whose merit most shall be:  
Which on more view, of many mine being one  
May stand in number, though in reckoning none,  
Come, go with me.**

To Servant, giving a paper

Go, sirrah, trudge about  
Through fair Galbadia; find those persons out  
Whose names are written there, and to them say,  
My house and welcome on their pleasure stay.

Exeunt

**CARAWAY**** and ****NIDA****Servant****  
Find them out whose names are written here! It is  
written, that the shoemaker should meddle with his  
yard, and the tailor with his last, the fisher with  
his pencil, and the painter with his nets; but I am  
sent to find those persons whose names are here  
writ, and can never find what names the writing  
person hath here writ. I must to the learned.-In good time.**

Enter

**ZELL**** and ****SQUALL****ZELL****  
Tut, man, one fire burns out another's burning,  
One pain is lessen'd by another's anguish;  
Turn giddy, and be holp by backward turning;  
One desperate grief cures with another's languish:  
Take thou some new infection to thy eye,  
And the rank poison of the old will die.**

**SQUALL****  
Your plaintain-leaf is excellent for that.**

**ZELL****  
For what, I pray thee?**

**SQUALL****  
For your broken shin.**

**ZELL****  
Why, Squall, art thou mad?**

**SQUALL****  
Not mad, but bound more than a mad-man is;  
Shut up in prison, kept without my food,  
Whipp'd and tormented and-God-den, good fellow.**

**Servant****  
God gi' god-den. I pray, sir, can you read?**

**SQUALL****  
Ay, mine own fortune in my misery.**

**Servant****  
Perhaps you have learned it without book: but, I  
pray, can you read any thing you see?**

**SQUALL****  
Ay, if I know the letters and the language.**

**Servant****  
Ye say honestly: rest you merry!**

**SQUALL****  
Stay, fellow; I can read.**

Reads

'Signior Martino and his wife and daughters;  
County Anselme and his beauteous sisters; the lady  
widow of Vitravio; Signior Placentio and his lovely  
nieces; Irvine and his brother Valentine; mine  
uncle Caraway, his wife and daughters; my fair niece  
Quistis; Livia; Signior Valentio and his cousin  
Seifer, Lucio and the lively Helena.' A fair  
assembly: whither should they come?

**Servant****  
Up.**

**SQUALL****  
Whither?**

**Servant****  
To supper; to our house.**

**SQUALL****  
Whose house?**

**Servant****  
My master's.**

**SQUALL****  
Indeed, I should have ask'd you that before.**

**Servant****  
Now I'll tell you without asking: my master is the  
great rich Caraway; and if you be not of the house  
of Loires, I pray, come and crush a cup of wine.  
Rest you merry!**

Exit

**ZELL****  
At this same ancient feast of Caraway's  
Sups the fair Quistis whom thou so lovest,  
With all the admired beauties of Galbadia:  
Go thither; and, with unattainted eye,  
Compare her face with some that I shall show,  
And I will make thee think thy swan a crow.**

**SQUALL****  
When the devout religion of mine eye  
Maintains such falsehood, then turn tears to fires;  
And these, who often drown'd could never die,  
Transparent heretics, be burnt for liars!  
One fairer than my love! the all-seeing sun  
Ne'er saw her match since first the world begun.**

**ZELL****  
Tut, you saw her fair, none else being by,  
Herself poised with herself in either eye:  
But in that crystal scales let there be weigh'd  
Your lady's love against some other maid  
That I will show you shining at this feast,  
And she shall scant show well that now shows best.**

**SQUALL****  
I'll go along, no such sight to be shown,  
But to rejoice in splendor of mine own.**

Exeunt

SCENE III. A room in Caraway's house.

Enter

**LADY****CARAWAY**** and ****Edea****  
**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
Edea, where's my daughter? call her forth to me.**

**Edea****  
Now, by my maidenhead, at twelve year old,  
I bade her come. What, lamb! what, ladybird!  
God forbid! Where's this girl? What, Rinoa!**

Enter

**RINOA****RINOA****  
How now! who calls?**

**Edea****  
Your mother.**

**RINOA****  
Madam, I am here.  
What is your will?**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
This is the matter:-Edea, give leave awhile,  
We must talk in secret:-Edea, come back again;  
I have remember'd me, thou's hear our counsel.  
Thou know'st my daughter's of a pretty age.**

**Edea****  
Faith, I can tell her age unto an hour.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
She's not fourteen.**

**Edea****  
I'll lay fourteen of my teeth,-  
And yet, to my teeth be it spoken, I have but four-  
She is not fourteen. How long is it now  
To Lammas-tide?**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
A fortnight and odd days.**

**Edea****  
Even or odd, of all days in the year,  
Come Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen.  
Susan and she-God rest all Christian souls!-  
Were of an age: well, Susan is with God;  
She was too good for me: but, as I said,  
On Lammas-eve at night shall she be fourteen;  
That shall she, marry; I remember it well.  
'Tis since the earthquake now eleven years;  
And she was wean'd,-I never shall forget it,-  
Of all the days of the year, upon that day:  
For I had then laid wormwood to my dug,  
Sitting in the sun under the dove-house wall;  
My lord and you were then at Winhill:-  
Nay, I do bear a brain:-but, as I said,  
When it did taste the wormwood on the nipple  
Of my dug and felt it bitter, pretty fool,  
To see it tetchy and fall out with the dug!  
Shake quoth the dove-house: 'twas no need, I trow,  
To bid me trudge:  
And since that time it is eleven years;  
For then she could stand alone; nay, by the rood,  
She could have run and waddled all about;  
For even the day before, she broke her brow:  
And then my husband-God be with his soul!  
A' was a merry man-took up the child:  
'Yea,' quoth he, 'dost thou fall upon thy face?  
Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit;  
Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame,  
The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'  
To see, now, how a jest shall come about!  
I warrant, an I should live a thousand years,  
I never should forget it: 'Wilt thou not, Jule?' quoth he;  
And, pretty fool, it stinted and said 'Ay.'**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
Enough of this; I pray thee, hold thy peace.**

**Edea****  
Yes, madam: yet I cannot choose but laugh,  
To think it should leave crying and say 'Ay.'  
And yet, I warrant, it had upon its brow  
A bump as big as a young cockerel's stone;  
A parlous knock; and it cried bitterly:  
'Yea,' quoth my husband,'fall'st upon thy face?  
Thou wilt fall backward when thou comest to age;  
Wilt thou not, Jule?' it stinted and said 'Ay.'**

**RINOA****  
And stint thou too, I pray thee, Edea, say I.**

**Edea****  
Peace, I have done. God mark thee to his grace!  
Thou wast the prettiest babe that e'er I Edead:  
An I might live to see thee married once,  
I have my wish.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
Marry, that 'marry' is the very theme  
I came to talk of. Tell me, daughter Rinoa,  
How stands your disposition to be married?**

**RINOA****  
It is an honour that I dream not of.**

**Edea****  
An honour! were not I thine only Edea,  
I would say thou hadst suck'd wisdom from thy teat.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
Well, think of marriage now; younger than you,  
Here in Galbadia, ladies of esteem,  
Are made already mothers: by my count,  
I was your mother much upon these years  
That you are now a maid. Thus then in brief:  
The valiant Nida seeks you for his love.**

**Edea****  
A man, young lady! lady, such a man  
As all the world-why, he's a man of wax.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
Galbadia's summer hath not such a flower.**

**Edea****  
Nay, he's a flower; in faith, a very flower.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
What say you? can you love the gentleman?  
This night you shall behold him at our feast;  
Read o'er the volume of young Nida' face,  
And find delight writ there with beauty's pen;  
Examine every married lineament,  
And see how one another lends content  
And what obscured in this fair volume lies  
Find written in the margent of his eyes.  
This precious book of love, this unbound lover,  
To beautify him, only lacks a cover:  
The fish lives in the sea, and 'tis much pride  
For fair without the fair within to hide:  
That book in many's eyes doth share the glory,  
That in gold clasps locks in the golden story;  
So shall you share all that he doth possess,  
By having him, making yourself no less.**

**Edea****  
No less! nay, bigger; women grow by men.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
Speak briefly, can you like of Nida' love?**

**RINOA****  
I'll look to like, if looking liking move:  
But no more deep will I endart mine eye  
Than your consent gives strength to make it fly.**

Enter a Servant

**Servant****  
Madam, the guests are come, supper served up, you  
called, my young lady asked for, the Edea cursed in  
the pantry, and every thing in extremity. I must  
hence to wait; I beseech you, follow straight.**

**LADY****CARAWAY****  
We follow thee.**

Exit Servant

Rinoa, the county stays.

**Edea****  
Go, girl, seek happy nights to happy days.**

Exeunt

SCENE IV. A street.

Enter

**SQUALL****, ****IRVINE****, ****ZELL****, with five or six Maskers, Torch-bearers, and others  
****SQUALL****  
What, shall this speech be spoke for our excuse?  
Or shall we on without a apology?**

**ZELL****  
The date is out of such prolixity:  
We'll have no Cupid hoodwink'd with a scarf,  
Bearing a Tartar's painted bow of lath,  
Scaring the ladies like a crow-keeper;  
Nor no without-book prologue, faintly spoke  
After the prompter, for our entrance:  
But let them measure us by what they will;  
We'll measure them a measure, and be gone.**

**SQUALL****  
Give me a torch: I am not for this ambling;  
Being but heavy, I will bear the light.**

**IRVINE****  
Nay, gentle Squall, we must have you dance.**

**SQUALL****  
Not I, believe me: you have dancing shoes  
With nimble soles: I have a soul of lead  
So stakes me to the ground I cannot move.**

**IRVINE****  
You are a lover; borrow Cupid's wings,  
And soar with them above a common bound.**

**SQUALL****  
I am too sore enpierced with his shaft  
To soar with his light feathers, and so bound,  
I cannot bound a pitch above dull woe:  
Under love's heavy burden do I sink.**

**IRVINE****  
And, to sink in it, should you burden love;  
Too great oppression for a tender thing.**

**SQUALL****  
Is love a tender thing? it is too rough,  
Too rude, too boisterous, and it pricks like thorn.**

**IRVINE****  
If love be rough with you, be rough with love;  
Prick love for pricking, and you beat love down.  
Give me a case to put my visage in:  
A visor for a visor! what care I  
What curious eye doth quote deformities?  
Here are the beetle brows shall blush for me.**

**ZELL****  
Come, knock and enter; and no sooner in,  
But every man betake him to his legs.**

**SQUALL****  
A torch for me: let wantons light of heart  
Tickle the senseless rushes with their heels,  
For I am proverb'd with a grandsire phrase;  
I'll be a candle-holder, and look on.  
The game was ne'er so fair, and I am done.**

**IRVINE****  
Tut, dun's the mouse, the constable's own word:  
If thou art dun, we'll draw thee from the mire  
Of this sir-reverence love, wherein thou stick'st  
Up to the ears. Come, we burn daylight, ho!**

**SQUALL****  
Nay, that's not so.**

**IRVINE****  
I mean, sir, in delay  
We waste our lights in vain, like lamps by day.  
Take our good meaning, for our judgment sits  
Five times in that ere once in our five wits.**

**SQUALL****  
And we mean well in going to this mask;  
But 'tis no wit to go.**

**IRVINE****  
Why, may one ask?**

**SQUALL****  
I dream'd a dream to-night.**

**IRVINE****  
And so did I.**

**SQUALL****  
Well, what was yours?**

**IRVINE****  
That dreamers often lie.**

**SQUALL****  
In bed asleep, while they do dream things true.**

**IRVINE****  
O, then, I see Queen Mab hath been with you.  
She is the fairies' midwife, and she comes  
In shape no bigger than an agate-stone  
On the fore-finger of an alderman,  
Drawn with a team of little atomies  
Athwart men's noses as they lie asleep;  
Her wagon-spokes made of long spiders' legs,  
The cover of the wings of grasshoppers,  
The traces of the smallest spider's web,  
The collars of the moonshine's watery beams,  
Her whip of cricket's bone, the lash of film,  
Her wagoner a small grey-coated gnat,  
Not so big as a round little worm  
Prick'd from the lazy finger of a maid;  
Her chariot is an empty hazel-nut  
Made by the joiner squirrel or old grub,  
Time out o' mind the fairies' coachmakers.  
And in this state she gallops night by night  
Through lovers' brains, and then they dream of love;  
O'er courtiers' knees, that dream on court'sies straight,  
O'er lawyers' fingers, who straight dream on fees,  
O'er ladies ' lips, who straight on kisses dream,  
Which oft the angry Mab with blisters plagues,  
Because their breaths with sweetmeats tainted are:  
Sometime she gallops o'er a courtier's nose,  
And then dreams he of smelling out a suit;  
And sometime comes she with a tithe-pig's tail  
Tickling a parson's nose as a' lies asleep,  
Then dreams, he of another benefice:  
Sometime she driveth o'er a soldier's neck,  
And then dreams he of cutting foreign throats,  
Of breaches, ambuscadoes, Spanish blades,  
Of healths five-fathom deep; and then anon  
Drums in his ear, at which he starts and wakes,  
And being thus frighted swears a prayer or two  
And sleeps again. This is that very Mab  
That plats the manes of horses in the night,  
And bakes the elflocks in foul sluttish hairs,  
Which once untangled, much misfortune bodes:  
This is the hag, when maids lie on their backs,  
That presses them and learns them first to bear,  
Making them women of good carriage:  
This is she-**

**SQUALL****  
Peace, peace, Irvine, peace!  
Thou talk'st of nothing.**

**IRVINE****  
True, I talk of dreams,  
Which are the children of an idle brain,  
Begot of nothing but vain fantasy,  
Which is as thin of substance as the air  
And more inconstant than the wind, who wooes  
Even now the frozen bosom of the north,  
And, being anger'd, puffs away from thence,  
Turning his face to the dew-dropping south.**

**ZELL****  
This wind, you talk of, blows us from ourselves;  
Supper is done, and we shall come too late.**

**SQUALL****  
I fear, too early: for my mind misgives  
Some consequence yet hanging in the stars  
Shall bitterly begin his fearful date  
With this night's revels and expire the term  
Of a despised life closed in my breast  
By some vile forfeit of untimely death.  
But He, that hath the steerage of my course,  
Direct my sail! On, lusty gentlemen.**

**ZELL****  
Strike, drum.**

Exeunt

******SCENE V. A hall in Caraway's house.**

Musicians waiting. Enter Servingmen with napkins

**First****Servant****  
Where's Potpan, that he helps not to take away? He  
shift a trencher? he scrape a trencher!**

**Second****Servant****  
When good manners shall lie all in one or two men's  
hands and they unwashed too, 'tis a foul thing.**

**First****Servant****  
Away with the joint-stools, remove the  
court-cupboard, look to the plate. Good thou, save  
me a piece of marchpane; and, as thou lovest me, let  
the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell.  
Antony, and Potpan!**

**Second****Servant****  
Ay, boy, ready.**

**First****Servant****  
You are looked for and called for, asked for and  
sought for, in the great chamber.**

**Second****Servant****  
We cannot be here and there too. Cheerly, boys; be  
brisk awhile, and the longer liver take all.**

Enter

**CARAWAY****, with ****RINOA**** and others of his house, meeting the ****Guests**** and ****Maskers****CARAWAY****  
Welcome, gentlemen! ladies that have their toes  
Unplagued with corns will have a bout with you.  
Ah ha, my mistresses! which of you all  
Will now deny to dance? she that makes dainty,  
She, I'll swear, hath corns; am I come near ye now?  
Welcome, gentlemen! I have seen the day  
That I have worn a visor and could tell  
A whispering tale in a fair lady's ear,  
Such as would please: 'tis gone, 'tis gone, 'tis gone:  
You are welcome, gentlemen! come, musicians, play.  
A hall, a hall! give room! and foot it, girls.**

Music plays, and they dance

More light, you knaves; and turn the tables up,  
And quench the fire, the room is grown too hot.  
Ah, sirrah, this unlook'd-for sport comes well.  
Nay, sit, nay, sit, good cousin Caraway;  
For you and I are past our dancing days:  
How long is't now since last yourself and I  
Were in a mask?

**Second****Caraway****  
By'r lady, thirty years.**

**CARAWAY****  
What, man! 'tis not so much, 'tis not so much:  
'Tis since the nuptials of Lucentio,  
Come pentecost as quickly as it will,  
Some five and twenty years; and then we mask'd.**

**Second****Caraway****  
'Tis more, 'tis more, his son is elder, sir;  
His son is thirty.**

**CARAWAY****  
Will you tell me that?  
His son was but a ward two years ago.**

**SQUALL****  
To a Servingman What lady is that, which doth  
enrich the hand  
Of yonder knight?**

**Servant****  
I know not, sir.**

**SQUALL****  
O, she doth teach the torches to burn bright!  
It seems she hangs upon the cheek of night  
Like a rich jewel in an Ethiope's ear;  
Beauty too rich for use, for earth too dear!  
So shows a snowy dove trooping with crows,  
As yonder lady o'er her fellows shows.  
The measure done, I'll watch her place of stand,  
And, touching hers, make blessed my rude hand.  
Did my heart love till now? forswear it, sight!  
For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.**

**SEIFER****  
This, by his voice, should be a Loire.  
Fetch me my rapier, boy. What dares the slave  
Come hither, cover'd with an antic face,  
To fleer and scorn at our solemnity?  
Now, by the stock and honour of my kin,  
To strike him dead, I hold it not a sin.**

**CARAWAY****  
Why, how now, kinsman! wherefore storm you so?**

**SEIFER****  
Uncle, this is a Loire, our foe,  
A villain that is hither come in spite,  
To scorn at our solemnity this night.**

**CARAWAY****  
Young Squall is it?**

**SEIFER****  
'Tis he, that villain Squall.**

**CARAWAY****  
Content thee, gentle coz, let him alone;  
He bears him like a portly gentleman;  
And, to say truth, Galbadia brags of him  
To be a virtuous and well-govern'd youth:  
I would not for the wealth of all the town  
Here in my house do him disparagement:  
Therefore be patient, take no note of him:  
It is my will, the which if thou respect,  
Show a fair presence and put off these frowns,  
And ill-beseeming semblance for a feast.**

**SEIFER****  
It fits, when such a villain is a guest:  
I'll not endure him.**

**CARAWAY****  
He shall be endured:  
What, goodman boy! I say, he shall: go to;  
Am I the master here, or you? go to.  
You'll not endure him! God shall mend my soul!  
You'll make a mutiny among my guests!  
You will set cock-a-hoop! you'll be the man!**

**SEIFER****  
Why, uncle, 'tis a shame.**

**CARAWAY****  
Go to, go to;  
You are a saucy boy: is't so, indeed?  
This trick may chance to scathe you, I know what:  
You must contrary me! marry, 'tis time.  
Well said, my hearts! You are a princox; go:  
Be quiet, or-More light, more light! For shame!  
I'll make you quiet. What, cheerly, my hearts!**

**SEIFER****  
Patience perforce with wilful choler meeting  
Makes my flesh tremble in their different greeting.  
I will withdraw: but this intrusion shall  
Now seeming sweet convert to bitter gall.**

Exit

**SQUALL****  
To RINOA If I profane with my unworthiest hand  
This holy shrine, the gentle fine is this:  
My lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand  
To smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.**

**RINOA****  
Good pilgrim, you do wrong your hand too much,  
Which mannerly devotion shows in this;  
For saints have hands that pilgrims' hands do touch,  
And palm to palm is holy palmers' kiss.**

**SQUALL****  
Have not saints lips, and holy palmers too?**

**RINOA****  
Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.**

**SQUALL****  
O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do;  
They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair.**

**RINOA****  
Saints do not move, though grant for prayers' sake.**

**SQUALL****  
Then move not, while my prayer's effect I take.  
Thus from my lips, by yours, my sin is purged.**

**RINOA****  
Then have my lips the sin that they have took.**

**SQUALL****  
Sin from thy lips? O trespass sweetly urged!  
Give me my sin again.**

**RINOA****  
You kiss by the book.**

**Edea ****  
Madam, your mother craves a word with you.**

**SQUALL****  
What is her mother?**

**Edea ****  
Marry, bachelor,  
Her mother is the lady of the house,  
And a good lady, and a wise and virtuous  
I nursed her daughter, that you talk'd withal;  
I tell you, he that can lay hold of her  
Shall have the chinks.**

**SQUALL****  
Is she a Caraway?  
O dear account! my life is my foe's debt.**

**ZELL****  
Away, begone; the sport is at the best.**

**SQUALL****  
Ay, so I fear; the more is my unrest.**

**CARAWAY****  
Nay, gentlemen, prepare not to be gone;  
We have a trifling foolish banquet towards.  
Is it e'en so? why, then, I thank you all  
I thank you, honest gentlemen; good night.  
More torches here! Come on then, let's to bed.  
Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late:  
I'll to my rest.**

Exeunt all but

**RINOA**** and ****Edea ****RINOA****  
Come hither, Edea. What is yond gentleman?**

**Edea****  
The son and heir of old Tiberio.**

**RINOA****  
What's he that now is going out of door?**

**Edea ****  
Marry, that, I think, be young Petrucio.**

**RINOA****  
What's he that follows there, that would not dance?**

**Edea ****  
I know not.**

**RINOA****  
Go ask his name: if he be married.  
My grave is like to be my wedding bed.**

**Edea ****  
His name is Squall, and a Loire;  
The only son of your great enemy.**

**RINOA****  
My only love sprung from my only hate!  
Too early seen unknown, and known too late!  
Prodigious birth of love it is to me,  
That I must love a loathed enemy.**

**Edea ****  
What's this? what's this?**

**RINOA****  
A rhyme I learn'd even now  
Of one I danced withal.**

One calls within 'Rinoa.'

**Edea ****  
Anon, anon!  
Come, let's away; the strangers all are gone.**

Exeuntsonae


	2. Chapter 2

ACT II

**ACT II  
PROLOGUE  
**  
**Enter Chorus**

Chorus  
Now old desire doth in his death-bed lie,  
And young affection gapes to be his heir;  
That fair for which love groan'd for and would die,  
With tender Rinoa match'd, is now not fair.  
Now Squall is beloved and loves again,  
Alike betwitched by the charm of looks,  
But to his foe supposed he must complain,  
And she steal love's sweet bait from fearful hooks:  
Being held a foe, he may not have access  
To breathe such vows as lovers use to swear;  
And she as much in love, her means much less  
To meet her new-beloved any where:  
But passion lends them power, time means, to meet  
Tempering extremities with extreme sweet.

Exit

SCENE I. A lane by the wall of Caraway's orchard.

Enter SQUALL  
SQUALL  
Can I go forward when my heart is here?  
Turn back, dull earth, and find thy centre out.

He climbs the wall, and leaps down within it

Enter ZELL and IRVINE

ZELL  
Squall! my cousin Squall!

IRVINE  
He is wise;  
And, on my lie, hath stol'n him home to bed.

ZELL  
He ran this way, and leap'd this orchard wall:  
Call, good Irvine.

IRVINE  
Nay, I'll conjure too.  
Squall! humours! madman! passion! lover!  
Appear thou in the likeness of a sigh:  
Speak but one rhyme, and I am satisfied;  
Cry but 'Ay me!' pronounce but 'love' and 'dove;'  
Speak to my gossip Venus one fair word,  
One nick-name for her purblind son and heir,  
Young Adam Cupid, he that shot so trim,  
When King Cophetua loved the beggar-maid!  
He heareth not, he stirreth not, he moveth not;  
The ape is dead, and I must conjure him.  
I conjure thee by Quistis's bright eyes,  
By her high forehead and her scarlet lip,  
By her fine foot, straight leg and quivering thigh  
And the demesnes that there adjacent lie,  
That in thy likeness thou appear to us!

ZELL  
And if he hear thee, thou wilt anger him.

IRVINE  
This cannot anger him: 'twould anger him  
To raise a spirit in his mistress' circle  
Of some strange nature, letting it there stand  
Till she had laid it and conjured it down;  
That were some spite: my invocation  
Is fair and honest, and in his mistres s' name  
I conjure only but to raise up him.

ZELL  
Come, he hath hid himself among these trees,  
To be consorted with the humorous night:  
Blind is his love and best befits the dark.

IRVINE  
If love be blind, love cannot hit the mark.  
Now will he sit under a medlar tree,  
And wish his mistress were that kind of fruit  
As maids call medlars, when they laugh alone.  
Squall, that she were, O, that she were  
An open et caetera, thou a poperin pear!  
Squall, good night: I'll to my truckle-bed;  
This field-bed is too cold for me to sleep:  
Come, shall we go?

ZELL  
Go, then; for 'tis in vain  
To seek him here that means not to be found.

Exeunt

SCENE II. Caraway's orchard.

Enter SQUALL  
SQUALL  
He jests at scars that never felt a wound.

RINOA appears above at a window

But, soft! what light through yonder window breaks?  
It is the east, and Rinoa is the sun.  
Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon,  
Who is already sick and pale with grief,  
That thou her maid art far more fair than she:  
Be not her maid, since she is envious;  
Her vestal livery is but sick and green  
And none but fools do wear it; cast it off.  
It is my lady, O, it is my love!  
O, that she knew she were!  
She speaks yet she says nothing: what of that?  
Her eye discourses; I will answer it.  
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she speaks:  
Two of the fairest stars in all the heaven,  
Having some business, do entreat her eyes  
To twinkle in their spheres till they return.  
What if her eyes were there, they in her head?  
The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars,  
As daylight doth a lamp; her eyes in heaven  
Would through the airy region stream so bright  
That birds would sing and think it were not night.  
See, how she leans her cheek upon her hand!  
O, that I were a glove upon that hand,  
That I might touch that cheek!

RINOA  
Ay me!

SQUALL  
She speaks:  
O, speak again, bright angel! for thou art  
As glorious to this night, being o'er my head  
As is a winged messenger of heaven  
Unto the white-upturned wondering eyes  
Of mortals that fall back to gaze on him  
When he bestrides the lazy-pacing clouds  
And sails upon the bosom of the air.

RINOA  
O Squall, Squall! wherefore art thou Squall?  
Deny thy father and refuse thy name;  
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,  
And I'll no longer be a Caraway.

SQUALL  
Aside Shall I hear more, or shall I speak at this?

RINOA  
'Tis but thy name that is my enemy;  
Thou art thyself, though not a Loire.  
What's Loire? it is nor hand, nor foot,  
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part  
Belonging to a man. O, be some other name!  
What's in a name? that which we call a rose  
By any other name would smell as sweet;  
So Squall would, were he not Squall call'd,  
Retain that dear perfection which he owes  
Without that title. Squall, doff thy name,  
And for that name which is no part of thee  
Take all myself.

SQUALL  
I take thee at thy word:  
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;  
Henceforth I never will be Squall.

RINOA  
What man art thou that thus bescreen'd in night  
So stumblest on my counsel?

SQUALL  
By a name  
I know not how to tell thee who I am:  
My name, dear saint, is hateful to myself,  
Because it is an enemy to thee;  
Had I it written, I would tear the word.

RINOA  
My ears have not yet drunk a hundred words  
Of that tongue's utterance, yet I know the sound:  
Art thou not Squall and a Loire?

SQUALL  
Neither, fair saint, if either thee dislike.

RINOA  
How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?  
The orchard walls are high and hard to climb,  
And the place death, considering who thou art,  
If any of my kinsmen find thee here.

SQUALL  
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch these walls;  
For stony limits cannot hold love out,  
And what love can do that dares love attempt;  
Therefore thy kinsmen are no let to me.

RINOA  
If they do see thee, they will murder thee.

SQUALL  
Alack, there lies more peril in thine eye  
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but sweet,  
And I am proof against their enmity.

RINOA  
I would not for the world they saw thee here.

SQUALL  
I have night's cloak to hide me from their sight;  
And but thou love me, let them find me here:  
My life were better ended by their hate,  
Than death prorogued, wanting of thy love.

RINOA  
By whose direction found'st thou out this place?

SQUALL  
By love, who first did prompt me to inquire;  
He lent me counsel and I lent him eyes.  
I am no pilot; yet, wert thou as far  
As that vast shore wash'd with the farthest sea,  
I would adventure for such merchandise.

RINOA  
Thou know'st the mask of night is on my face,  
Else would a maiden blush bepaint my cheek  
For that which thou hast heard me speak to-night  
Fain would I dwell on form, fain, fain deny  
What I have spoke: but farewell compliment!  
Dost thou love me? I know thou wilt say 'Ay,'  
And I will take thy word: yet if thou swear'st,  
Thou mayst prove false; at lovers' perjuries  
Then say, Jove laughs. O gentle Squall,  
If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully:  
Or if thou think'st I am too quickly won,  
I'll frown and be perverse an say thee nay,  
So thou wilt woo; but else, not for the world.  
In truth, fair Loire, I am too fond,  
And therefore thou mayst think my 'havior light:  
But trust me, gentleman, I'll prove more true  
Than those that have more cunning to be strange.  
I should have been more strange, I must confess,  
But that thou overheard'st, ere I was ware,  
My true love's passion: therefore pardon me,  
And not impute this yielding to light love,  
Which the dark night hath so discovered.

SQUALL  
Lady, by yonder blessed moon I swear  
That tips with silver all these fruit-tree tops--

RINOA  
O, swear not by the moon, the inconstant moon,  
That monthly changes in her circled orb,  
Lest that thy love prove likewise variable.

SQUALL  
What shall I swear by?

RINOA  
Do not swear at all;  
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy gracious self,  
Which is the god of my idolatry,  
And I'll believe thee.

SQUALL  
If my heart's dear love--

RINOA  
Well, do not swear: although I joy in thee,  
I have no joy of this contract to-night:  
It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;  
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be  
Ere one can say 'It lightens.' Sweet, good night!  
This bud of love, by summer's ripening breath,  
May prove a beauteous flower when next we meet.  
Good night, good night! as sweet repose and rest  
Come to thy heart as that within my breast!

SQUALL  
O, wilt thou leave me so unsatisfied?

RINOA  
What satisfaction canst thou have to-night?

SQUALL  
The exchange of thy love's faithful vow for mine.

RINOA  
I gave thee mine before thou didst request it:  
And yet I would it were to give again.

SQUALL  
Wouldst thou withdraw it? for what purpose, love?

RINOA  
But to be frank, and give it thee again.  
And yet I wish but for the thing I have:  
My bounty is as boundless as the sea,  
My love as deep; the more I give to thee,  
The more I have, for both are infinite.

Edea calls within

I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!  
Anon, good Edea! Sweet Loire, be true.  
Stay but a little, I will come again.

Exit, above

SQUALL  
O blessed, blessed night! I am afeard.  
Being in night, all this is but a dream,  
Too flattering-sweet to be substantial.

Re-enter RINOA, above

RINOA  
Three words, dear Squall, and good night indeed.  
If that thy bent of love be honourable,  
Thy purpose marriage, send me word to-morrow,  
By one that I'll procure to come to thee,  
Where and what time thou wilt perform the rite;  
And all my fortunes at thy foot I'll lay  
And follow thee my lord throughout the world.

Edea  
Within Madam!

RINOA  
I come, anon.--But if thou mean'st not well,  
I do beseech thee--

Edea  
Within Madam!

RINOA  
By and by, I come:--  
To cease thy suit, and leave me to my grief:  
To-morrow will I send.

SQUALL  
So thrive my soul--

RINOA  
A thousand times good night!

Exit, above

SQUALL  
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.  
Love goes toward love, as schoolboys from  
their books,  
But love from love, toward school with heavy looks.

Retiring

Re-enter RINOA, above

RINOA  
Hist! Squall, hist! O, for a falconer's voice,  
To lure this tassel-gentle back again!  
Bondage is hoarse, and may not speak aloud;  
Else would I tear the cave where Echo lies,  
And make her airy tongue more hoarse than mine,  
With repetition of my Squall's name.

SQUALL  
It is my soul that calls upon my name:  
How silver-sweet sound lovers' tongues by night,  
Like softest music to attending ears!

RINOA  
Squall!

SQUALL  
My dear?

RINOA  
At what o'clock to-morrow  
Shall I send to thee?

SQUALL  
At the hour of nine.

RINOA  
I will not fail: 'tis twenty years till then.  
I have forgot why I did call thee back.

SQUALL  
Let me stand here till thou remember it.

RINOA  
I shall forget, to have thee still stand there,  
Remembering how I love thy company.

SQUALL  
And I'll still stay, to have thee still forget,  
Forgetting any other home but this.

RINOA  
'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:  
And yet no further than a wanton's bird;  
Who lets it hop a little from her hand,  
Like a poor prisoner in his twisted gyves,  
And with a silk thread plucks it back again,  
So loving-jealous of his liberty.

SQUALL  
I would I were thy bird.

RINOA  
Sweet, so would I:  
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.  
Good night, good night! parting is such  
sweet sorrow,  
That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

Exit above

SQUALL  
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy breast!  
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to rest!  
Hence will I to my ghostly father's cell,  
His help to crave, and my dear hap to tell.

Exit

SCENE III. Friar Cid's cell.

Enter FRIAR CID, with a basket  
FRIAR CID  
The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night,  
Chequering the eastern clouds with streaks of light,  
And flecked darkness like a drunkard reels  
From forth day's path and Titan's fiery wheels:  
Now, ere the sun advance his burning eye,  
The day to cheer and night's dank dew to dry,  
I must up-fill this osier cage of ours  
With baleful weeds and precious-juiced flowers.  
The earth that's nature's mother is her tomb;  
What is her burying grave that is her womb,  
And from her womb children of divers kind  
We sucking on her natural bosom find,  
Many for many virtues excellent,  
None but for some and yet all different.  
O, mickle is the powerful grace that lies  
In herbs, plants, stones, and their true qualities:  
For nought so vile that on the earth doth live  
But to the earth some special good doth give,  
Nor aught so good but strain'd from that fair use  
Revolts from true birth, stumbling on abuse:  
Virtue itself turns vice, being misapplied;  
And vice sometimes by action dignified.  
Within the infant rind of this small flower  
Poison hath residence and medicine power:  
For this, being smelt, with that part cheers each part;  
Being tasted, slays all senses with the heart.  
Two such opposed kings encamp them still  
In man as well as herbs, grace and rude will;  
And where the worser is predominant,  
Full soon the canker death eats up that plant.

Enter SQUALL

SQUALL  
Good morrow, father.

FRIAR CID  
Benedicite!  
What early tongue so sweet saluteth me?  
Young son, it argues a distemper'd head  
So soon to bid good morrow to thy bed:  
Care keeps his watch in every old man's eye,  
And where care lodges, sleep will never lie;  
But where unbruised youth with unstuff'd brain  
Doth couch his limbs, there golden sleep doth reign:  
Therefore thy earliness doth me assure  
Thou art up-roused by some distemperature;  
Or if not so, then here I hit it right,  
Our Squall hath not been in bed to-night.

SQUALL  
That last is true; the sweeter rest was mine.

FRIAR CID  
God pardon sin! wast thou with Quistis?

SQUALL  
With Quistis, my ghostly father? no;  
I have forgot that name, and that name's woe.

FRIAR CID  
That's my good son: but where hast thou been, then?

SQUALL  
I'll tell thee, ere thou ask it me again.  
I have been feasting with mine enemy,  
Where on a sudden one hath wounded me,  
That's by me wounded: both our remedies  
Within thy help and holy physic lies:  
I bear no hatred, blessed man, for, lo,  
My intercession likewise steads my foe.

FRIAR CID  
Be plain, good son, and homely in thy drift;  
Riddling confession finds but riddling shrift.

SQUALL  
Then plainly know my heart's dear love is set  
On the fair daughter of rich Caraway:  
As mine on hers, so hers is set on mine;  
And all combined, save what thou must combine  
By holy marriage: when and where and how  
We met, we woo'd and made exchange of vow,  
I'll tell thee as we pass; but this I pray,  
That thou consent to marry us to-day.

FRIAR CID  
Holy Saint Francis, what a change is here!  
Is Quistis, whom thou didst love so dear,  
So soon forsaken? young men's love then lies  
Not truly in their hearts, but in their eyes.  
Jesu Maria, what a deal of brine  
Hath wash'd thy sallow cheeks for Quistis!  
How much salt water thrown away in waste,  
To season love, that of it doth not taste!  
The sun not yet thy sighs from heaven clears,  
Thy old groans ring yet in my ancient ears;  
Lo, here upon thy cheek the stain doth sit  
Of an old tear that is not wash'd off yet:  
If e'er thou wast thyself and these woes thine,  
Thou and these woes were all for Quistis:  
And art thou changed? pronounce this sentence then,  
Women may fall, when there's no strength in men.

SQUALL  
Thou chid'st me oft for loving Quistis.

FRIAR CID  
For doting, not for loving, pupil mine.

SQUALL  
And bad'st me bury love.

FRIAR CID  
Not in a grave,  
To lay one in, another out to have.

SQUALL  
I pray thee, chide not; she whom I love now  
Doth grace for grace and love for love allow;  
The other did not so.

FRIAR CID  
O, she knew well  
Thy love did read by rote and could not spell.  
But come, young waverer, come, go with me,  
In one respect I'll thy assistant be;  
For this alliance may so happy prove,  
To turn your households' rancour to pure love.

SQUALL  
O, let us hence; I stand on sudden haste.

FRIAR CID  
Wisely and slow; they stumble that run fast.

Exeunt

SCENE IV. A street.

Enter ZELL and IRVINE  
IRVINE  
Where the devil should this Squall be?  
Came he not home to-night?

ZELL  
Not to his father's; I spoke with his man.

IRVINE  
Ah, that same pale hard-hearted wench, that Quistis.  
Torments him so, that he will sure run mad.

ZELL  
Seifer, the kinsman of old Caraway,  
Hath sent a letter to his father's house.

IRVINE  
A challenge, on my life.

ZELL  
Squall will answer it.

IRVINE  
Any man that can write may answer a letter.

ZELL  
Nay, he will answer the letter's master, how he  
dares, being dared.

IRVINE  
Alas poor Squall! he is already dead; stabbed with a  
white wench's black eye; shot through the ear with a  
love-song; the very pin of his heart cleft with the  
blind bow-boy's butt-shaft: and is he a man to  
encounter Seifer?

ZELL  
Why, what is Seifer?

IRVINE  
More than prince of cats, I can tell you. O, he is  
the courageous captain of compliments. He fights as  
you sing prick-song, keeps time, distance, and  
proportion; rests me his minim rest, one, two, and  
the third in your bosom: the very butcher of a silk  
button, a duellist, a duellist; a gentleman of the  
very first house, of the first and second cause:  
ah, the immortal passado! the punto reverso! the  
hai!

ZELL  
The what?

IRVINE  
The pox of such antic, lisping, affecting  
fantasticoes; these new tuners of accents! 'By Jesu,  
a very good blade! a very tall man! a very good  
whore!' Why, is not this a lamentable thing,  
grandsire, that we should be thus afflicted with  
these strange flies, these fashion-mongers, these  
perdona-mi's, who stand so much on the new form,  
that they cannot at ease on the old bench? O, their  
bones, their bones!

Enter SQUALL

ZELL  
Here comes Squall, here comes Squall.

IRVINE  
Without his roe, like a dried herring: flesh, flesh,  
how art thou fishified! Now is he for the numbers  
that Petrarch flowed in: Laura to his lady was but a  
kitchen-wench; marry, she had a better love to  
be-rhyme her; Dido a dowdy; Cleopatra a gipsy;  
Helen and Hero hildings and harlots; Thisbe a grey  
eye or so, but not to the purpose. Signior  
Squall, bon jour! there's a French salutation  
to your French slop. You gave us the counterfeit  
fairly last night.

SQUALL  
Good morrow to you both. What counterfeit did I give you?

IRVINE  
The ship, sir, the slip; can you not conceive?

SQUALL  
Pardon, good Irvine, my business was great; and in  
such a case as mine a man may strain courtesy.

IRVINE  
That's as much as to say, such a case as yours  
constrains a man to bow in the hams.

SQUALL  
Meaning, to court'sy.

IRVINE  
Thou hast most kindly hit it.

SQUALL  
A most courteous exposition.

IRVINE  
Nay, I am the very pink of courtesy.

SQUALL  
Pink for flower.

IRVINE  
Right.

SQUALL  
Why, then is my pump well flowered.

IRVINE  
Well said: follow me this jest now till thou hast  
worn out thy pump, that when the single sole of it  
is worn, the jest may remain after the wearing sole singular.

SQUALL  
O single-soled jest, solely singular for the  
singleness.

IRVINE  
Come between us, good Zell; my wits faint.

SQUALL  
Switch and spurs, switch and spurs; or I'll cry a match.

IRVINE  
Nay, if thy wits run the wild-goose chase, I have  
done, for thou hast more of the wild-goose in one of  
thy wits than, I am sure, I have in my whole five:  
was I with you there for the goose?

SQUALL  
Thou wast never with me for any thing when thou wast  
not there for the goose.

IRVINE  
I will bite thee by the ear for that jest.

SQUALL  
Nay, good goose, bite not.

IRVINE  
Thy wit is a very bitter sweeting; it is a most  
sharp sauce.

SQUALL  
And is it not well served in to a sweet goose?

IRVINE  
O here's a wit of cheveril, that stretches from an  
inch narrow to an ell broad!

SQUALL  
I stretch it out for that word 'broad;' which added  
to the goose, proves thee far and wide a broad goose.

IRVINE  
Why, is not this better now than groaning for love?  
now art thou sociable, now art thou Squall; now art  
thou what thou art, by art as well as by nature:  
for this drivelling love is like a great natural,  
that runs lolling up and down to hide his bauble in a hole.

ZELL  
Stop there, stop there.

IRVINE  
Thou desirest me to stop in my tale against the hair.

ZELL  
Thou wouldst else have made thy tale large.

IRVINE  
O, thou art deceived; I would have made it short:  
for I was come to the whole depth of my tale; and  
meant, indeed, to occupy the argument no longer.

SQUALL  
Here's goodly gear!

Enter Edea and PETER

IRVINE  
A sail, a sail!

ZELL  
Two, two; a shirt and a smock.

Edea  
Peter!

PETER  
Anon!

Edea  
My fan, Peter.

IRVINE  
Good Peter, to hide her face; for her fan's the  
fairer face.

Edea  
God ye good morrow, gentlemen.

IRVINE  
God ye good den, fair gentlewoman.

Edea  
Is it good den?

IRVINE  
'Tis no less, I tell you, for the bawdy hand of the  
dial is now upon the prick of noon.

Edea  
Out upon you! what a man are you!

SQUALL  
One, gentlewoman, that God hath made for himself to  
mar.

Edea  
By my troth, it is well said; 'for himself to mar,'  
quoth a'? Gentlemen, can any of you tell me where I  
may find the young Squall?

SQUALL  
I can tell you; but young Squall will be older when  
you have found him than he was when you sought him:  
I am the youngest of that name, for fault of a worse.

Edea  
You say well.

IRVINE  
Yea, is the worst well? very well took, i' faith;  
wisely, wisely.

Edea  
if you be he, sir, I desire some confidence with  
you.

ZELL  
She will indite him to some supper.

IRVINE  
A bawd, a bawd, a bawd! so ho!

SQUALL  
What hast thou found?

IRVINE  
No hare, sir; unless a hare, sir, in a lenten pie,  
that is something stale and hoar ere it be spent.

Sings

An old hare hoar,  
And an old hare hoar,  
Is very good meat in lent  
But a hare that is hoar  
Is too much for a score,  
When it hoars ere it be spent.  
Squall, will you come to your father's? we'll  
to dinner, thither.

SQUALL  
I will follow you.

IRVINE  
Farewell, ancient lady; farewell,

Singing

'lady, lady, lady.'

Exeunt IRVINE and ZELL

Edea  
Marry, farewell! I pray you, sir, what saucy  
merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery?

SQUALL  
A gentleman, Edea, that loves to hear himself talk,  
and will speak more in a minute than he will stand  
to in a month.

Edea  
An a' speak any thing against me, I'll take him  
down, an a' were lustier than he is, and twenty such  
Jacks; and if I cannot, I'll find those that shall.  
Scurvy knave! I am none of his flirt-gills; I am  
none of his skains-mates. And thou must stand by  
too, and suffer every knave to use me at his pleasure?

PETER  
I saw no man use you a pleasure; if I had, my weapon  
should quickly have been out, I warrant you: I dare  
draw as soon as another man, if I see occasion in a  
good quarrel, and the law on my side.

Edea  
Now, afore God, I am so vexed, that every part about  
me quivers. Scurvy knave! Pray you, sir, a word:  
and as I told you, my young lady bade me inquire you  
out; what she bade me say, I will keep to myself:  
but first let me tell ye, if ye should lead her into  
a fool's paradise, as they say, it were a very gross  
kind of behavior, as they say: for the gentlewoman  
is young; and, therefore, if you should deal double  
with her, truly it were an ill thing to be offered  
to any gentlewoman, and very weak dealing.

SQUALL  
Edea, commend me to thy lady and mistress. I  
protest unto thee--

Edea  
Good heart, and, i' faith, I will tell her as much:  
Lord, Lord, she will be a joyful woman.

SQUALL  
What wilt thou tell her, Edea? thou dost not mark me.

Edea  
I will tell her, sir, that you do protest; which, as  
I take it, is a gentlemanlike offer.

SQUALL  
Bid her devise  
Some means to come to shrift this afternoon;  
And there she shall at Friar Cid' cell  
Be shrived and married. Here is for thy pains.

Edea  
No truly sir; not a penny.

SQUALL  
Go to; I say you shall.

Edea  
This afternoon, sir? well, she shall be there.

SQUALL  
And stay, good Edea, behind the abbey wall:  
Within this hour my man shall be with thee  
And bring thee cords made like a tackled stair;  
Which to the high top-gallant of my joy  
Must be my convoy in the secret night.  
Farewell; be trusty, and I'll quit thy pains:  
Farewell; commend me to thy mistress.

Edea  
Now God in heaven bless thee! Hark you, sir.

SQUALL  
What say'st thou, my dear Edea?

Edea  
Is your man secret? Did you ne'er hear say,  
Two may keep counsel, putting one away?

SQUALL  
I warrant thee, my man's as true as steel.

EDEA  
Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady--Lord,  
Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:--O, there  
is a nobleman in town, one Nida, that would fain  
lay knife aboard; but she, good soul, had as lief  
see a toad, a very toad, as see him. I anger her  
sometimes and tell her that Nida is the properer  
man; but, I'll warrant you, when I say so, she looks  
as pale as any clout in the versal world. Doth not  
snapdragon and Squall begin both with a letter?

SQUALL  
Ay, Edea; what of that? both with an S.

Edea  
Ah. mocker! that's the dog's name; S is for  
the--No; I know it begins with some other  
letter:--and she hath the prettiest sententious of  
it, of you and snapdragon, that it would do you good  
to hear it.

SQUALL  
Commend me to thy lady.

Edea  
Ay, a thousand times.

Exit Squall

Peter!

PETER  
Anon!

Edea  
Peter, take my fan, and go before and apace.

Exeunt

SCENE V. Caraway's orchard.

Enter RINOA  
RINOA  
The clock struck nine when I did send the Edea;  
In half an hour she promised to return.  
Perchance she cannot meet him: that's not so.  
O, she is lame! love's heralds should be thoughts,  
Which ten times faster glide than the sun's beams,  
Driving back shadows over louring hills:  
Therefore do nimble-pinion'd doves draw love,  
And therefore hath the wind-swift Cupid wings.  
Now is the sun upon the highmost hill  
Of this day's journey, and from nine till twelve  
Is three long hours, yet she is not come.  
Had she affections and warm youthful blood,  
She would be as swift in motion as a ball;  
My words would bandy her to my sweet love,  
And his to me:  
But old folks, many feign as they were dead;  
Unwieldy, slow, heavy and pale as lead.  
O God, she comes!

Enter Edea and PETER

O honey Edea, what news?  
Hast thou met with him? Send thy man away.

Edea  
Peter, stay at the gate.

Exit PETER

RINOA  
Now, good sweet Edea,--O Lord, why look'st thou sad?  
Though news be sad, yet tell them merrily;  
If good, thou shamest the music of sweet news  
By playing it to me with so sour a face.

Edea  
I am a-weary, give me leave awhile:  
Fie, how my bones ache! what a jaunt have I had!

RINOA  
I would thou hadst my bones, and I thy news:  
Nay, come, I pray thee, speak; good, good Edea, speak.

Edea  
Jesu, what haste? can you not stay awhile?  
Do you not see that I am out of breath?

RINOA  
How art thou out of breath, when thou hast breath  
To say to me that thou art out of breath?  
The excuse that thou dost make in this delay  
Is longer than the tale thou dost excuse.  
Is thy news good, or bad? answer to that;  
Say either, and I'll stay the circumstance:  
Let me be satisfied, is't good or bad?

Edea  
Well, you have made a simple choice; you know not  
how to choose a man: Squall! no, not he; though his  
face be better than any man's, yet his leg excels  
all men's; and for a hand, and a foot, and a body,  
though they be not to be talked on, yet they are  
past compare: he is not the flower of courtesy,  
but, I'll warrant him, as gentle as a lamb. Go thy  
ways, wench; serve God. What, have you dined at home?

RINOA  
No, no: but all this did I know before.  
What says he of our marriage? what of that?

Edea  
Lord, how my head aches! what a head have I!  
It beats as it would fall in twenty pieces.  
My back o' t' other side,--O, my back, my back!  
Beshrew your heart for sending me about,  
To catch my death with jaunting up and down!

RINOA  
I' faith, I am sorry that thou art not well.  
Sweet, sweet, sweet Edea, tell me, what says my love?

Edea  
Your love says, like an honest gentleman, and a  
courteous, and a kind, and a handsome, and, I  
warrant, a virtuous,--Where is your mother?

RINOA  
Where is my mother! why, she is within;  
Where should she be? How oddly thou repliest!  
'Your love says, like an honest gentleman,  
Where is your mother?'

Edea  
O God's lady dear!  
Are you so hot? marry, come up, I trow;  
Is this the poultice for my aching bones?  
Henceforward do your messages yourself.

RINOA  
Here's such a coil! come, what says Squall?

Edea  
Have you got leave to go to shrift to-day?

RINOA  
I have.

Edea  
Then hie you hence to Friar Cid' cell;  
There stays a husband to make you a wife:  
Now comes the wanton blood up in your cheeks,  
They'll be in scarlet straight at any news.  
Hie you to church; I must another way,  
To fetch a ladder, by the which your love  
Must climb a bird's nest soon when it is dark:  
I am the drudge and toil in your delight,  
But you shall bear the burden soon at night.  
Go; I'll to dinner: hie you to the cell.

RINOA  
Hie to high fortune! Honest Edea, farewell.

Exeunt

SCENE VI. Friar Cid's cell.

Enter FRIAR CID and SQUALL  
FRIAR CID  
So smile the heavens upon this holy act,  
That after hours with sorrow chide us not!

SQUALL  
Amen, amen! but come what sorrow can,  
It cannot countervail the exchange of joy  
That one short minute gives me in her sight:  
Do thou but close our hands with holy words,  
Then love-devouring death do what he dare;  
It is enough I may but call her mine.

FRIAR CID  
These violent delights have violent ends  
And in their triumph die, like fire and powder,  
Which as they kiss consume: the sweetest honey  
Is loathsome in his own deliciousness  
And in the taste confounds the appetite:  
Therefore love moderately; long love doth so;  
Too swift arrives as tardy as too slow.

Enter RINOA

Here comes the lady: O, so light a foot  
Will ne'er wear out the everlasting flint:  
A lover may bestride the gossamer  
That idles in the wanton summer air,  
And yet not fall; so light is vanity.

RINOA  
Good even to my ghostly confessor.

FRIAR CID  
Squall shall thank thee, daughter, for us both.

RINOA  
As much to him, else is his thanks too much.

SQUALL  
Ah, Rinoa, if the measure of thy joy  
Be heap'd like mine and that thy skill be more  
To blazon it, then sweeten with thy breath  
This neighbour air, and let rich music's tongue  
Unfold the imagined happiness that both  
Receive in either by this dear encounter.

RINOA  
Conceit, more rich in matter than in words,  
Brags of his substance, not of ornament:  
They are but beggars that can count their worth;  
But my true love is grown to such excess  
I cannot sum up sum of half my wealth.

FRIAR CID  
Come, come with me, and we will make short work;  
For, by your leaves, you shall not stay alone  
Till holy church incorporate two in one.

ExeuntPersonae 


	3. Chapter 3

Script of Act III Romeo and Juliet

**ACT III  
SCENE I. A public place.**

Enter IRVINE, ZELL, Page, and Servants  
ZELL  
I pray thee, good Irvine, let's retire:  
The day is hot, the Caraways abroad,  
And, if we meet, we shall not scape a brawl;  
For now, these hot days, is the mad blood stirring.

IRVINE  
Thou art like one of those fellows that when he  
enters the confines of a tavern claps me his sword  
upon the table and says 'God send me no need of  
thee!' and by the operation of the second cup draws  
it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

ZELL  
Am I like such a fellow?

IRVINE  
Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as  
any in Italy, and as soon moved to be moody, and as  
soon moody to be moved.

ZELL  
And what to?

IRVINE  
Nay, an there were two such, we should have none  
shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why,  
thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more,  
or a hair less, in his beard, than thou hast: thou  
wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no  
other reason but because thou hast hazel eyes: what  
eye but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel?  
Thy head is as fun of quarrels as an egg is full of  
meat, and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as  
an egg for quarrelling: thou hast quarrelled with a  
man for coughing in the street, because he hath  
wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun:  
didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing  
his new doublet before Easter? with another, for  
tying his new shoes with old riband? and yet thou  
wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

ZELL  
An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man  
should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

IRVINE  
The fee-simple! O simple!

ZELL  
By my head, here come the Caraways.

IRVINE  
By my heel, I care not.

Enter SEIFER and others

SEIFER  
Follow me close, for I will speak to them.  
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.

IRVINE  
And but one word with one of us? couple it with  
something; make it a word and a blow.

SEIFER  
You shall find me apt enough to that, sir, an you  
will give me occasion.

IRVINE  
Could you not take some occasion without giving?

SEIFER  
Irvine, thou consort'st with Squall,--

IRVINE  
Consort! what, dost thou make us minstrels? an  
thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but  
discords: here's my fiddlestick; here's that shall  
make you dance. 'Zounds, consort!

ZELL  
We talk here in the public haunt of men:  
Either withdraw unto some private place,  
And reason coldly of your grievances,  
Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

IRVINE  
Men's eyes were made to look, and let them gaze;  
I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter SQUALL

SEIFER  
Well, peace be with you, sir: here comes my man.

IRVINE  
But I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery:  
Marry, go before to field, he'll be your follower;  
Your worship in that sense may call him 'man.'

SEIFER  
Squall, the hate I bear thee can afford  
No better term than this,--thou art a villain.

SQUALL  
Seifer, the reason that I have to love thee  
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage  
To such a greeting: villain am I none;  
Therefore farewell; I see thou know'st me not.

SEIFER  
Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries  
That thou hast done me; therefore turn and draw.

SQUALL  
I do protest, I never injured thee,  
But love thee better than thou canst devise,  
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love:  
And so, good Caraway,--which name I tender  
As dearly as my own,--be satisfied.

IRVINE  
O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!  
Alla stoccata carries it away.

Draws

Seifer, you rat-catcher, will you walk?

SEIFER  
What wouldst thou have with me?

IRVINE  
Good king of cats, nothing but one of your nine  
lives; that I mean to make bold withal, and as you  
shall use me hereafter, drybeat the rest of the  
eight. Will you pluck your sword out of his pitcher  
by the ears? make haste, lest mine be about your  
ears ere it be out.

SEIFER  
I am for you.

Drawing

SQUALL  
Gentle Irvine, put thy rapier up.

IRVINE  
Come, sir, your passado.

They fight

SQUALL  
Draw, Zell; beat down their weapons.  
Gentlemen, for shame, forbear this outrage!  
Seifer, Irvine, the prince expressly hath  
Forbidden bandying in Verona streets:  
Hold, Seifer! good Irvine!

SEIFER under SQUALL's arm stabs IRVINE, and flies with his followers

IRVINE  
I am hurt.  
A plague o' both your houses! I am sped.  
Is he gone, and hath nothing?

ZELL  
What, art thou hurt?

IRVINE  
Ay, ay, a scratch, a scratch; marry, 'tis enough.  
Where is my page? Go, villain, fetch a surgeon.

Exit Page

SQUALL  
Courage, man; the hurt cannot be much.

IRVINE  
No, 'tis not so deep as a well, nor so wide as a  
church-door; but 'tis enough,'twill serve: ask for  
me to-morrow, and you shall find me a grave man. I  
am peppered, I warrant, for this world. A plague o'  
both your houses! 'Zounds, a dog, a rat, a mouse, a  
cat, to scratch a man to death! a braggart, a  
rogue, a villain, that fights by the book of  
arithmetic! Why the devil came you between us? I  
was hurt under your arm.

SQUALL  
I thought all for the best.

IRVINE  
Help me into some house, Zell,  
Or I shall faint. A plague o' both your houses!  
They have made worms' meat of me: I have it,  
And soundly too: your houses!

Exeunt IRVINE and ZELL

SQUALL  
This gentleman, the prince's near ally,  
My very friend, hath got his mortal hurt  
In my behalf; my reputation stain'd  
With Seifer's slander,--Seifer, that an hour  
Hath been my kinsman! O sweet Rinoa,  
Thy beauty hath made me effeminate  
And in my temper soften'd valour's steel!

Re-enter ZELL

ZELL  
O Squall, Squall, brave Irvine's dead!  
That gallant spirit hath aspired the clouds,  
Which too untimely here did scorn the earth.

SQUALL  
This day's black fate on more days doth depend;  
This but begins the woe, others must end.

ZELL  
Here comes the furious Seifer back again.

SQUALL  
Alive, in triumph! and Irvine slain!  
Away to heaven, respective lenity,  
And fire-eyed fury be my conduct now!

Re-enter SEIFER

Now, Seifer, take the villain back again,  
That late thou gavest me; for Irvine's soul  
Is but a little way above our heads,  
Staying for thine to keep him company:  
Either thou, or I, or both, must go with him.

SEIFER  
Thou, wretched boy, that didst consort him here,  
Shalt with him hence.

SQUALL  
This shall determine that.

They fight; SEIFER falls

ZELL  
Squall, away, be gone!  
The citizens are up, and Seifer slain.  
Stand not amazed: the prince will doom thee death,  
If thou art taken: hence, be gone, away!

SQUALL  
O, I am fortune's fool!

ZELL  
Why dost thou stay?

Exit SQUALL

Enter Citizens, & c

First Citizen  
Which way ran he that kill'd Irvine?  
Seifer, that murderer, which way ran he?

ZELL  
There lies that Seifer.

First Citizen  
Up, sir, go with me;  
I charge thee in the princes name, obey.

Enter Prince, attended; LOIRE, CARAWAY, their Wives, and others

PRINCE  
Where are the vile beginners of this fray?

ZELL  
O noble prince, I can discover all  
The unlucky manage of this fatal brawl:  
There lies the man, slain by young Squall,  
That slew thy kinsman, brave Irvine.

LADY CARAWAY  
Seifer, my cousin! O my brother's child!  
O prince! O cousin! husband! O, the blood is spilt  
O my dear kinsman! Prince, as thou art true,  
For blood of ours, shed blood of Loire.  
O cousin, cousin!

PRINCE  
Zell, who began this bloody fray?

ZELL  
Seifer, here slain, whom Squall's hand did slay;  
Squall that spoke him fair, bade him bethink  
How nice the quarrel was, and urged withal  
Your high displeasure: all this uttered  
With gentle breath, calm look, knees humbly bow'd,  
Could not take truce with the unruly spleen  
Of Seifer deaf to peace, but that he tilts  
With piercing steel at bold Irvine's breast,  
Who all as hot, turns deadly point to point,  
And, with a martial scorn, with one hand beats  
Cold death aside, and with the other sends  
It back to Seifer, whose dexterity,  
Retorts it: Squall he cries aloud,  
'Hold, friends! friends, part!' and, swifter than  
his tongue,  
His agile arm beats down their fatal points,  
And 'twixt them rushes; underneath whose arm  
An envious thrust from Seifer hit the life  
Of stout Irvine, and then Seifer fled;  
But by and by comes back to Squall,  
Who had but newly entertain'd revenge,  
And to 't they go like lightning, for, ere I  
Could draw to part them, was stout Seifer slain.  
And, as he fell, did Squall turn and fly.  
This is the truth, or let Zell die.

LADY CARAWAY  
He is a kinsman to the Loire;  
Affection makes him false; he speaks not true:  
Some twenty of them fought in this black strife,  
And all those twenty could but kill one life.  
I beg for justice, which thou, prince, must give;  
Squall slew Seifer, Squall must not live.

PRINCE  
Squall slew him, he slew Irvine;  
Who now the price of his dear blood doth owe?

LOIRE  
Not Squall, prince, he was Irvine's friend;  
His fault concludes but what the law should end,  
The life of Seifer.

PRINCE  
And for that offence  
Immediately we do exile him hence:  
I have an interest in your hate's proceeding,  
My blood for your rude brawls doth lie a-bleeding;  
But I'll amerce you with so strong a fine  
That you shall all repent the loss of mine:  
I will be deaf to pleading and excuses;  
Nor tears nor prayers shall purchase out abuses:  
Therefore use none: let Squall hence in haste,  
Else, when he's found, that hour is his last.  
Bear hence this body and attend our will:  
Mercy but murders, pardoning those that kill.

Exeunt

SCENE II. Caraway's orchard.

Enter RINOA  
RINOA  
Gallop apace, you fiery-footed steeds,  
Towards Phoebus' lodging: such a wagoner  
As Phaethon would whip you to the west,  
And bring in cloudy night immediately.  
Spread thy close curtain, love-performing night,  
That runaway's eyes may wink and Squall  
Leap to these arms, untalk'd of and unseen.  
Lovers can see to do their amorous rites  
By their own beauties; or, if love be blind,  
It best agrees with night. Come, civil night,  
Thou sober-suited matron, all in black,  
And learn me how to lose a winning match,  
Play'd for a pair of stainless maidenhoods:  
Hood my unmann'd blood, bating in my cheeks,  
With thy black mantle; till strange love, grown bold,  
Think true love acted simple modesty.  
Come, night; come, Squall; come, thou day in night;  
For thou wilt lie upon the wings of night  
Whiter than new snow on a raven's back.  
Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-brow'd night,  
Give me my Squall; and, when he shall die,  
Take him and cut him out in little stars,  
And he will make the face of heaven so fine  
That all the world will be in love with night  
And pay no worship to the garish sun.  
O, I have bought the mansion of a love,  
But not possess'd it, and, though I am sold,  
Not yet enjoy'd: so tedious is this day  
As is the night before some festival  
To an impatient child that hath new robes  
And may not wear them. O, here comes my Edea,  
And she brings news; and every tongue that speaks  
But Squall's name speaks heavenly eloquence.

Enter Edea, with cords

Now, Edea, what news? What hast thou there? the cords  
That Squall bid thee fetch?

Edea  
Ay, ay, the cords.

Throws them down

RINOA  
Ay me! what news? why dost thou wring thy hands?

Edea  
Ah, well-a-day! he's dead, he's dead, he's dead!  
We are undone, lady, we are undone!  
Alack the day! he's gone, he's kill'd, he's dead!

RINOA  
Can heaven be so envious?

Edea  
Squall can,  
Though heaven cannot: O Squall, Squall!  
Who ever would have thought it? Squall!

RINOA  
What devil art thou, that dost torment me thus?  
This torture should be roar'd in dismal hell.  
Hath Squall slain himself? say thou but 'I,'  
And that bare vowel 'I' shall poison more  
Than the death-darting eye of cockatrice:  
I am not I, if there be such an I;  
Or those eyes shut, that make thee answer 'I.'  
If he be slain, say 'I'; or if not, no:  
Brief sounds determine of my weal or woe.

Edea  
I saw the wound, I saw it with mine eyes,--  
God save the mark!--here on his manly breast:  
A piteous corse, a bloody piteous corse;  
Pale, pale as ashes, all bedaub'd in blood,  
All in gore-blood; I swounded at the sight.

RINOA  
O, break, my heart! poor bankrupt, break at once!  
To prison, eyes, ne'er look on liberty!  
Vile earth, to earth resign; end motion here;  
And thou and Squall press one heavy bier!

Edea  
O Seifer, Seifer, the best friend I had!  
O courteous Seifer! honest gentleman!  
That ever I should live to see thee dead!

RINOA  
What storm is this that blows so contrary?  
Is Squall slaughter'd, and is Seifer dead?  
My dear-loved cousin, and my dearer lord?  
Then, dreadful trumpet, sound the general doom!  
For who is living, if those two are gone?

Edea  
Seifer is gone, and Squall banished;  
Squall that kill'd him, he is banished.

RINOA  
O God! did Squall's hand shed Seifer's blood?

Edea  
It did, it did; alas the day, it did!

RINOA  
O serpent heart, hid with a flowering face!  
Did ever dragon keep so fair a cave?  
Beautiful tyrant! fiend angelical!  
Dove-feather'd raven! wolvish-ravening lamb!  
Despised substance of divinest show!  
Just opposite to what thou justly seem'st,  
A damned saint, an honourable villain!  
O nature, what hadst thou to do in hell,  
When thou didst bower the spirit of a fiend  
In moral paradise of such sweet flesh?  
Was ever book containing such vile matter  
So fairly bound? O that deceit should dwell  
In such a gorgeous palace!

Edea  
There's no trust,  
No faith, no honesty in men; all perjured,  
All forsworn, all naught, all dissemblers.  
Ah, where's my man? give me some aqua vitae:  
These griefs, these woes, these sorrows make me old.  
Shame come to Squall!

RINOA  
Blister'd be thy tongue  
For such a wish! he was not born to shame:  
Upon his brow shame is ashamed to sit;  
For 'tis a throne where honour may be crown'd  
Sole monarch of the universal earth.  
O, what a beast was I to chide at him!

Edea  
Will you speak well of him that kill'd your cousin?

RINOA  
Shall I speak ill of him that is my husband?  
Ah, poor my lord, what tongue shall smooth thy name,  
When I, thy three-hours wife, have mangled it?  
But, wherefore, villain, didst thou kill my cousin?  
That villain cousin would have kill'd my husband:  
Back, foolish tears, back to your native spring;  
Your tributary drops belong to woe,  
Which you, mistaking, offer up to joy.  
My husband lives, that Seifer would have slain;  
And Seifer's dead, that would have slain my husband:  
All this is comfort; wherefore weep I then?  
Some word there was, worser than Seifer's death,  
That murder'd me: I would forget it fain;  
But, O, it presses to my memory,  
Like damned guilty deeds to sinners' minds:  
'Seifer is dead, and Squall--banished;'  
That 'banished,' that one word 'banished,'  
Hath slain ten thousand Seifers. Seifer's death  
Was woe enough, if it had ended there:  
Or, if sour woe delights in fellowship  
And needly will be rank'd with other griefs,  
Why follow'd not, when she said 'Seifer's dead,'  
Thy father, or thy mother, nay, or both,  
Which modern lamentations might have moved?  
But with a rear-ward following Seifer's death,  
'Squall is banished,' to speak that word,  
Is father, mother, Seifer, Squall, Rinoa,  
All slain, all dead. 'Squall is banished!'  
There is no end, no limit, measure, bound,  
In that word's death; no words can that woe sound.  
Where is my father, and my mother, Edea?

Edea  
Weeping and wailing over Seifer's corse:  
Will you go to them? I will bring you thither.

RINOA  
Wash they his wounds with tears: mine shall be spent,  
When theirs are dry, for Squall's banishment.  
Take up those cords: poor ropes, you are beguiled,  
Both you and I; for Squall is exiled:  
He made you for a highway to my bed;  
But I, a maid, die maiden-widowed.  
Come, cords, come, Edea; I'll to my wedding-bed;  
And death, not Squall, take my maidenhead!

Edea  
Hie to your chamber: I'll find Squall  
To comfort you: I wot well where he is.  
Hark ye, your Squall will be here at night:  
I'll to him; he is hid at Cid' cell.

RINOA  
O, find him! give this ring to my true knight,  
And bid him come to take his last farewell.

Exeunt

SCENE III. Friar Cid's cell.

Enter FRIAR CID  
FRIAR CID  
Squall, come forth; come forth, thou fearful man:  
Affliction is enamour'd of thy parts,  
And thou art wedded to calamity.

Enter SQUALL

SQUALL  
Father, what news? what is the prince's doom?  
What sorrow craves acquaintance at my hand,  
That I yet know not?

FRIAR CID  
Too familiar  
Is my dear son with such sour company:  
I bring thee tidings of the prince's doom.

SQUALL  
What less than dooms-day is the prince's doom?

FRIAR CID  
A gentler judgment vanish'd from his lips,  
Not body's death, but body's banishment.

SQUALL  
Ha, banishment! be merciful, say 'death;'  
For exile hath more terror in his look,  
Much more than death: do not say 'banishment.'

FRIAR CID  
Hence from Verona art thou banished:  
Be patient, for the world is broad and wide.

SQUALL  
There is no world without Verona walls,  
But purgatory, torture, hell itself.  
Hence-banished is banish'd from the world,  
And world's exile is death: then banished,  
Is death mis-term'd: calling death banishment,  
Thou cutt'st my head off with a golden axe,  
And smilest upon the stroke that murders me.

FRIAR CID  
O deadly sin! O rude unthankfulness!  
Thy fault our law calls death; but the kind prince,  
Taking thy part, hath rush'd aside the law,  
And turn'd that black word death to banishment:  
This is dear mercy, and thou seest it not.

SQUALL  
'Tis torture, and not mercy: heaven is here,  
Where Rinoa lives; and every cat and dog  
And little mouse, every unworthy thing,  
Live here in heaven and may look on her;  
But Squall may not: more validity,  
More honourable state, more courtship lives  
In carrion-flies than Squall: they my seize  
On the white wonder of dear Rinoa's hand  
And steal immortal blessing from her lips,  
Who even in pure and vestal modesty,  
Still blush, as thinking their own kisses sin;  
But Squall may not; he is banished:  
Flies may do this, but I from this must fly:  
They are free men, but I am banished.  
And say'st thou yet that exile is not death?  
Hadst thou no poison mix'd, no sharp-ground knife,  
No sudden mean of death, though ne'er so mean,  
But 'banished' to kill me?--'banished'?  
O friar, the damned use that word in hell;  
Howlings attend it: how hast thou the heart,  
Being a divine, a ghostly confessor,  
A sin-absolver, and my friend profess'd,  
To mangle me with that word 'banished'?

FRIAR CID  
Thou fond mad man, hear me but speak a word.

SQUALL  
O, thou wilt speak again of banishment.

FRIAR CID  
I'll give thee armour to keep off that word:  
Adversity's sweet milk, philosophy,  
To comfort thee, though thou art banished.

SQUALL  
Yet 'banished'? Hang up philosophy!  
Unless philosophy can make a Rinoa,  
Displant a town, reverse a prince's doom,  
It helps not, it prevails not: talk no more.

FRIAR CID  
O, then I see that madmen have no ears.

SQUALL  
How should they, when that wise men have no eyes?

FRIAR CID  
Let me dispute with thee of thy estate.

SQUALL  
Thou canst not speak of that thou dost not feel:  
Wert thou as young as I, Rinoa thy love,  
An hour but married, Seifer murdered,  
Doting like me and like me banished,  
Then mightst thou speak, then mightst thou tear thy hair,  
And fall upon the ground, as I do now,  
Taking the measure of an unmade grave.

Knocking within

FRIAR CID  
Arise; one knocks; good Squall, hide thyself.

SQUALL  
Not I; unless the breath of heartsick groans,  
Mist-like, infold me from the search of eyes.

Knocking

FRIAR CID  
Hark, how they knock! Who's there? Squall, arise;  
Thou wilt be taken. Stay awhile! Stand up;

Knocking

Run to my study. By and by! God's will,  
What simpleness is this! I come, I come!

Knocking

Who knocks so hard? whence come you? what's your will?

Edea  
Within Let me come in, and you shall know  
my errand;  
I come from Lady Rinoa.

FRIAR CID  
Welcome, then.

Enter Edea

Edea  
O holy friar, O, tell me, holy friar,  
Where is my lady's lord, where's Squall?

FRIAR CID  
There on the ground, with his own tears made drunk.

Edea  
O, he is even in my mistress' case,  
Just in her case! O woful sympathy!  
Piteous predicament! Even so lies she,  
Blubbering and weeping, weeping and blubbering.  
Stand up, stand up; stand, and you be a man:  
For Rinoa's sake, for her sake, rise and stand;  
Why should you fall into so deep an O?

SQUALL  
Edea!

Edea  
Ah sir! ah sir! Well, death's the end of all.

SQUALL  
Spakest thou of Rinoa? how is it with her?  
Doth she not think me an old murderer,  
Now I have stain'd the childhood of our joy  
With blood removed but little from her own?  
Where is she? and how doth she? and what says  
My conceal'd lady to our cancell'd love?

Edea  
O, she says nothing, sir, but weeps and weeps;  
And now falls on her bed; and then starts up,  
And Seifer calls; and then on Squall cries,  
And then down falls again.

SQUALL  
As if that name,  
Shot from the deadly level of a gun,  
Did murder her; as that name's cursed hand  
Murder'd her kinsman. O, tell me, friar, tell me,  
In what vile part of this anatomy  
Doth my name lodge? tell me, that I may sack  
The hateful mansion.

Drawing his sword

FRIAR CID  
Hold thy desperate hand:  
Art thou a man? thy form cries out thou art:  
Thy tears are womanish; thy wild acts denote  
The unreasonable fury of a beast:  
Unseemly woman in a seeming man!  
Or ill-beseeming beast in seeming both!  
Thou hast amazed me: by my holy order,  
I thought thy disposition better temper'd.  
Hast thou slain Seifer? wilt thou slay thyself?  
And stay thy lady too that lives in thee,  
By doing damned hate upon thyself?  
Why rail'st thou on thy birth, the heaven, and earth?  
Since birth, and heaven, and earth, all three do meet  
In thee at once; which thou at once wouldst lose.  
Fie, fie, thou shamest thy shape, thy love, thy wit;  
Which, like a usurer, abound'st in all,  
And usest none in that true use indeed  
Which should bedeck thy shape, thy love, thy wit:  
Thy noble shape is but a form of wax,  
Digressing from the valour of a man;  
Thy dear love sworn but hollow perjury,  
Killing that love which thou hast vow'd to cherish;  
Thy wit, that ornament to shape and love,  
Misshapen in the conduct of them both,  
Like powder in a skitless soldier's flask,  
Is set afire by thine own ignorance,  
And thou dismember'd with thine own defence.  
What, rouse thee, man! thy Rinoa is alive,  
For whose dear sake thou wast but lately dead;  
There art thou happy: Seifer would kill thee,  
But thou slew'st Seifer; there are thou happy too:  
The law that threaten'd death becomes thy friend  
And turns it to exile; there art thou happy:  
A pack of blessings lights up upon thy back;  
Happiness courts thee in her best array;  
But, like a misbehaved and sullen wench,  
Thou pout'st upon thy fortune and thy love:  
Take heed, take heed, for such die miserable.  
Go, get thee to thy love, as was decreed,  
Ascend her chamber, hence and comfort her:  
But look thou stay not till the watch be set,  
For then thou canst not pass to Mantua;  
Where thou shalt live, till we can find a time  
To blaze your marriage, reconcile your friends,  
Beg pardon of the prince, and call thee back  
With twenty hundred thousand times more joy  
Than thou went'st forth in lamentation.  
Go before, Edea: commend me to thy lady;  
And bid her hasten all the house to bed,  
Which heavy sorrow makes them apt unto:  
Squall is coming.

Edea  
O Lord, I could have stay'd here all the night  
To hear good counsel: O, what learning is!  
My lord, I'll tell my lady you will come.

SQUALL  
Do so, and bid my sweet prepare to chide.

Edea  
Here, sir, a ring she bid me give you, sir:  
Hie you, make haste, for it grows very late.

Exit

SQUALL  
How well my comfort is revived by this!

FRIAR CID  
Go hence; good night; and here stands all your state:  
Either be gone before the watch be set,  
Or by the break of day disguised from hence:  
Sojourn in Mantua; I'll find out your man,  
And he shall signify from time to time  
Every good hap to you that chances here:  
Give me thy hand; 'tis late: farewell; good night.

SQUALL  
But that a joy past joy calls out on me,  
It were a grief, so brief to part with thee: Farewell.

Exeunt

SCENE IV. A room in Caraway's house.

Enter CARAWAY, LADY CARAWAY, and NIDA  
CARAWAY  
Things have fall'n out, sir, so unluckily,  
That we have had no time to move our daughter:  
Look you, she loved her kinsman Seifer dearly,  
And so did I:--Well, we were born to die.  
'Tis very late, she'll not come down to-night:  
I promise you, but for your company,  
I would have been a-bed an hour ago.

NIDA  
These times of woe afford no time to woo.  
Madam, good night: commend me to your daughter.

LADY CARAWAY  
I will, and know her mind early to-morrow;  
To-night she is mew'd up to her heaviness.

CARAWAY  
Sir Nida, I will make a desperate tender  
Of my child's love: I think she will be ruled  
In all respects by me; nay, more, I doubt it not.  
Wife, go you to her ere you go to bed;  
Acquaint her here of my son Nida' love;  
And bid her, mark you me, on Wednesday next--  
But, soft! what day is this?

NIDA  
Monday, my lord,

CARAWAY  
Monday! ha, ha! Well, Wednesday is too soon,  
O' Thursday let it be: o' Thursday, tell her,  
She shall be married to this noble earl.  
Will you be ready? do you like this haste?  
We'll keep no great ado,--a friend or two;  
For, hark you, Seifer being slain so late,  
It may be thought we held him carelessly,  
Being our kinsman, if we revel much:  
Therefore we'll have some half a dozen friends,  
And there an end. But what say you to Thursday?

NIDA  
My lord, I would that Thursday were to-morrow.

CARAWAY  
Well get you gone: o' Thursday be it, then.  
Go you to Rinoa ere you go to bed,  
Prepare her, wife, against this wedding-day.  
Farewell, my lord. Light to my chamber, ho!  
Afore me! it is so very very late,  
That we may call it early by and by.  
Good night.

Exeunt

SCENE V. Caraway's orchard.

Enter SQUALL and RINOA above, at the window  
RINOA  
Wilt thou be gone? it is not yet near day:  
It was the nightingale, and not the lark,  
That pierced the fearful hollow of thine ear;  
Nightly she sings on yon pomegranate-tree:  
Believe me, love, it was the nightingale.

SQUALL  
It was the lark, the herald of the morn,  
No nightingale: look, love, what envious streaks  
Do lace the severing clouds in yonder east:  
Night's candles are burnt out, and jocund day  
Stands tiptoe on the misty mountain tops.  
I must be gone and live, or stay and die.

RINOA  
Yon light is not day-light, I know it, I:  
It is some meteor that the sun exhales,  
To be to thee this night a torch-bearer,  
And light thee on thy way to Mantua:  
Therefore stay yet; thou need'st not to be gone.

SQUALL  
Let me be ta'en, let me be put to death;  
I am content, so thou wilt have it so.  
I'll say yon grey is not the morning's eye,  
'Tis but the pale reflex of Cynthia's brow;  
Nor that is not the lark, whose notes do beat  
The vaulty heaven so high above our heads:  
I have more care to stay than will to go:  
Come, death, and welcome! Rinoa wills it so.  
How is't, my soul? let's talk; it is not day.

RINOA  
It is, it is: hie hence, be gone, away!  
It is the lark that sings so out of tune,  
Straining harsh discords and unpleasing sharps.  
Some say the lark makes sweet division;  
This doth not so, for she divideth us:  
Some say the lark and loathed toad change eyes,  
O, now I would they had changed voices too!  
Since arm from arm that voice doth us affray,  
Hunting thee hence with hunt's-up to the day,  
O, now be gone; more light and light it grows.

SQUALL  
More light and light; more dark and dark our woes!

Enter Edea, to the chamber

Edea  
Madam!

RINOA  
Edea?

Edea  
Your lady mother is coming to your chamber:  
The day is broke; be wary, look about.

Exit

RINOA  
Then, window, let day in, and let life out.

SQUALL  
Farewell, farewell! one kiss, and I'll descend.

He goeth down

RINOA  
Art thou gone so? love, lord, ay, husband, friend!  
I must hear from thee every day in the hour,  
For in a minute there are many days:  
O, by this count I shall be much in years  
Ere I again behold my Squall!

SQUALL  
Farewell!  
I will omit no opportunity  
That may convey my greetings, love, to thee.

RINOA  
O think'st thou we shall ever meet again?

SQUALL  
I doubt it not; and all these woes shall serve  
For sweet discourses in our time to come.

RINOA  
O God, I have an ill-divining soul!  
Methinks I see thee, now thou art below,  
As one dead in the bottom of a tomb:  
Either my eyesight fails, or thou look'st pale.

SQUALL  
And trust me, love, in my eye so do you:  
Dry sorrow drinks our blood. Adieu, adieu!

Exit

RINOA  
O fortune, fortune! all men call thee fickle:  
If thou art fickle, what dost thou with him.  
That is renown'd for faith? Be fickle, fortune;  
For then, I hope, thou wilt not keep him long,  
But send him back.

LADY CARAWAY  
Within Ho, daughter! are you up?

RINOA  
Who is't that calls? is it my lady mother?  
Is she not down so late, or up so early?  
What unaccustom'd cause procures her hither?

Enter LADY CARAWAY

LADY CARAWAY  
Why, how now, Rinoa!

RINOA  
Madam, I am not well.

LADY CARAWAY  
Evermore weeping for your cousin's death?  
What, wilt thou wash him from his grave with tears?  
An if thou couldst, thou couldst not make him live;  
Therefore, have done: some grief shows much of love;  
But much of grief shows still some want of wit.

RINOA  
Yet let me weep for such a feeling loss.

LADY CARAWAY  
So shall you feel the loss, but not the friend  
Which you weep for.

RINOA  
Feeling so the loss,  
Cannot choose but ever weep the friend.

LADY CARAWAY  
Well, girl, thou weep'st not so much for his death,  
As that the villain lives which slaughter'd him.

RINOA  
What villain madam?

LADY CARAWAY  
That same villain, Squall.

RINOA  
Aside Villain and he be many miles asunder.--  
God Pardon him! I do, with all my heart;  
And yet no man like he doth grieve my heart.

LADY CARAWAY  
That is, because the traitor murderer lives.

RINOA  
Ay, madam, from the reach of these my hands:  
Would none but I might venge my cousin's death!

LADY CARAWAY  
We will have vengeance for it, fear thou not:  
Then weep no more. I'll send to one in Mantua,  
Where that same banish'd runagate doth live,  
Shall give him such an unaccustom'd dram,  
That he shall soon keep Seifer company:  
And then, I hope, thou wilt be satisfied.

RINOA  
Indeed, I never shall be satisfied  
With Squall, till I behold him--dead--  
Is my poor heart for a kinsman vex'd.  
Madam, if you could find out but a man  
To bear a poison, I would temper it;  
That Squall should, upon receipt thereof,  
Soon sleep in quiet. O, how my heart abhors  
To hear him named, and cannot come to him.  
To wreak the love I bore my cousin  
Upon his body that slaughter'd him!

LADY CARAWAY  
Find thou the means, and I'll find such a man.  
But now I'll tell thee joyful tidings, girl.

RINOA  
And joy comes well in such a needy time:  
What are they, I beseech your ladyship?

LADY CARAWAY  
Well, well, thou hast a careful father, child;  
One who, to put thee from thy heaviness,  
Hath sorted out a sudden day of joy,  
That thou expect'st not nor I look'd not for.

RINOA  
Madam, in happy time, what day is that?

LADY CARAWAY  
Marry, my child, early next Thursday morn,  
The gallant, young and noble gentleman,  
The County Nida, at Saint Peter's Church,  
Shall happily make thee there a joyful bride.

RINOA  
Now, by Saint Peter's Church and Peter too,  
He shall not make me there a joyful bride.  
I wonder at this haste; that I must wed  
Ere he, that should be husband, comes to woo.  
I pray you, tell my lord and father, madam,  
I will not marry yet; and, when I do, I swear,  
It shall be Squall, whom you know I hate,  
Rather than Nida. These are news indeed!

LADY CARAWAY  
Here comes your father; tell him so yourself,  
And see how he will take it at your hands.

Enter CARAWAY and Edea

CARAWAY  
When the sun sets, the air doth drizzle dew;  
But for the sunset of my brother's son  
It rains downright.  
How now! a conduit, girl? what, still in tears?  
Evermore showering? In one little body  
Thou counterfeit'st a bark, a sea, a wind;  
For still thy eyes, which I may call the sea,  
Do ebb and flow with tears; the bark thy body is,  
Sailing in this salt flood; the winds, thy sighs;  
Who, raging with thy tears, and they with them,  
Without a sudden calm, will overset  
Thy tempest-tossed body. How now, wife!  
Have you deliver'd to her our decree?

LADY CARAWAY  
Ay, sir; but she will none, she gives you thanks.  
I would the fool were married to her grave!

CARAWAY  
Soft! take me with you, take me with you, wife.  
How! will she none? doth she not give us thanks?  
Is she not proud? doth she not count her blest,  
Unworthy as she is, that we have wrought  
So worthy a gentleman to be her bridegroom?

RINOA  
Not proud, you have; but thankful, that you have:  
Proud can I never be of what I hate;  
But thankful even for hate, that is meant love.

CARAWAY  
How now, how now, chop-logic! What is this?  
'Proud,' and 'I thank you,' and 'I thank you not;'  
And yet 'not proud,' mistress minion, you,  
Thank me no thankings, nor, proud me no prouds,  
But fettle your fine joints 'gainst Thursday next,  
To go with Nida to Saint Peter's Church,  
Or I will drag thee on a hurdle thither.  
Out, you green-sickness carrion! out, you baggage!  
You tallow-face!

LADY CARAWAY  
Fie, fie! what, are you mad?

RINOA  
Good father, I beseech you on my knees,  
Hear me with patience but to speak a word.

CARAWAY  
Hang thee, young baggage! disobedient wretch!  
I tell thee what: get thee to church o' Thursday,  
Or never after look me in the face:  
Speak not, reply not, do not answer me;  
My fingers itch. Wife, we scarce thought us blest  
That God had lent us but this only child;  
But now I see this one is one too much,  
And that we have a curse in having her:  
Out on her, hilding!

Edea  
God in heaven bless her!  
You are to blame, my lord, to rate her so.

CARAWAY  
And why, my lady wisdom? hold your tongue,  
Good prudence; smatter with your gossips, go.

Edea  
I speak no treason.

CARAWAY  
O, God ye god-den.

Edea  
May not one speak?

CARAWAY  
Peace, you mumbling fool!  
Utter your gravity o'er a gossip's bowl;  
For here we need it not.

LADY CARAWAY  
You are too hot.

CARAWAY  
God's bread! it makes me mad:  
Day, night, hour, tide, time, work, play,  
Alone, in company, still my care hath been  
To have her match'd: and having now provided  
A gentleman of noble parentage,  
Of fair demesnes, youthful, and nobly train'd,  
Stuff'd, as they say, with honourable parts,  
Proportion'd as one's thought would wish a man;  
And then to have a wretched puling fool,  
A whining mammet, in her fortune's tender,  
To answer 'I'll not wed; I cannot love,  
I am too young; I pray you, pardon me.'  
But, as you will not wed, I'll pardon you:  
Graze where you will you shall not house with me:  
Look to't, think on't, I do not use to jest.  
Thursday is near; lay hand on heart, advise:  
An you be mine, I'll give you to my friend;  
And you be not, hang, beg, starve, die in  
the streets,  
For, by my soul, I'll ne'er acknowledge thee,  
Nor what is mine shall never do thee good:  
Trust to't, bethink you; I'll not be forsworn.

Exit

RINOA  
Is there no pity sitting in the clouds,  
That sees into the bottom of my grief?  
O, sweet my mother, cast me not away!  
Delay this marriage for a month, a week;  
Or, if you do not, make the bridal bed  
In that dim monument where Seifer lies.

LADY CARAWAY  
Talk not to me, for I'll not speak a word:  
Do as thou wilt, for I have done with thee.

Exit

RINOA  
O God!--O Edea, how shall this be prevented?  
My husband is on earth, my faith in heaven;  
How shall that faith return again to earth,  
Unless that husband send it me from heaven  
By leaving earth? comfort me, counsel me.  
Alack, alack, that heaven should practise stratagems  
Upon so soft a subject as myself!  
What say'st thou? hast thou not a word of joy?  
Some comfort, Edea.

Edea  
Faith, here it is.  
Squall is banish'd; and all the world to nothing,  
That he dares ne'er come back to challenge you;  
Or, if he do, it needs must be by stealth.  
Then, since the case so stands as now it doth,  
I think it best you married with the county.  
O, he's a lovely gentleman!  
Squall's a dishclout to him: an eagle, madam,  
Hath not so green, so quick, so fair an eye  
As Nida hath. Beshrew my very heart,  
I think you are happy in this second match,  
For it excels your first: or if it did not,  
Your first is dead; or 'twere as good he were,  
As living here and you no use of him.

RINOA  
Speakest thou from thy heart?

Edea  
And from my soul too;  
Or else beshrew them both.

RINOA  
Amen!

Edea  
What?

RINOA  
Well, thou hast comforted me marvellous much.  
Go in: and tell my lady I am gone,  
Having displeased my father, to Cid's cell,  
To make confession and to be absolved.

Edea  
Marry, I will; and this is wisely done.

Exit

RINOA  
Ancient damnation! O most wicked fiend!  
Is it more sin to wish me thus forsworn,  
Or to dispraise my lord with that same tongue  
Which she hath praised him with above compare  
So many thousand times? Go, counsellor;  
Thou and my bosom henceforth shall be twain.  
I'll to the friar, to know his remedy:  
If all else fail, myself have power to die.

Exit


	4. Chapter 4

ACT IV

**ACT IV  
SCENE I. Friar Cid's cell.**

Enter FRIAR CID and NIDA  
FRIAR CID  
On Thursday, sir? the time is very short.

NIDA  
My father Caraway will have it so;  
And I am nothing slow to slack his haste.

FRIAR CID  
You say you do not know the lady's mind:  
Uneven is the course, I like it not.

NIDA  
Immoderately she weeps for Seifer's death,  
And therefore have I little talk'd of love;  
For Venus smiles not in a house of tears.  
Now, sir, her father counts it dangerous  
That she doth give her sorrow so much sway,  
And in his wisdom hastes our marriage,  
To stop the inundation of her tears;  
Which, too much minded by herself alone,  
May be put from her by society:  
Now do you know the reason of this haste.

FRIAR CID  
Aside I would I knew not why it should be slow'd.  
Look, sir, here comes the lady towards my cell.

Enter RINOA

NIDA  
Happily met, my lady and my wife!

RINOA  
That may be, sir, when I may be a wife.

NIDA  
That may be must be, love, on Thursday next.

RINOA  
What must be shall be.

FRIAR CID  
That's a certain text.

NIDA  
Come you to make confession to this father?

RINOA  
To answer that, I should confess to you.

NIDA  
Do not deny to him that you love me.

RINOA  
I will confess to you that I love him.

NIDA  
So will ye, I am sure, that you love me.

RINOA  
If I do so, it will be of more price,  
Being spoke behind your back, than to your face.

NIDA  
Poor soul, thy face is much abused with tears.

RINOA  
The tears have got small victory by that;  
For it was bad enough before their spite.

NIDA  
Thou wrong'st it, more than tears, with that report.

RINOA  
That is no slander, sir, which is a truth;  
And what I spake, I spake it to my face.

NIDA  
Thy face is mine, and thou hast slander'd it.

RINOA  
It may be so, for it is not mine own.  
Are you at leisure, holy father, now;  
Or shall I come to you at evening mass?

FRIAR CID  
My leisure serves me, pensive daughter, now.  
My lord, we must entreat the time alone.

NIDA  
God shield I should disturb devotion!  
Rinoa, on Thursday early will I rouse ye:  
Till then, adieu; and keep this holy kiss.

Exit

RINOA  
O shut the door! and when thou hast done so,  
Come weep with me; past hope, past cure, past help!

FRIAR CID  
Ah, Rinoa, I already know thy grief;  
It strains me past the compass of my wits:  
I hear thou must, and nothing may prorogue it,  
On Thursday next be married to this county.

RINOA  
Tell me not, friar, that thou hear'st of this,  
Unless thou tell me how I may prevent it:  
If, in thy wisdom, thou canst give no help,  
Do thou but call my resolution wise,  
And with this knife I'll help it presently.  
God join'd my heart and Squall's, thou our hands;  
And ere this hand, by thee to Squall seal'd,  
Shall be the label to another deed,  
Or my true heart with treacherous revolt  
Turn to another, this shall slay them both:  
Therefore, out of thy long-experienced time,  
Give me some present counsel, or, behold,  
'Twixt my extremes and me this bloody knife  
Shall play the umpire, arbitrating that  
Which the commission of thy years and art  
Could to no issue of true honour bring.  
Be not so long to speak; I long to die,  
If what thou speak'st speak not of remedy.

FRIAR CID  
Hold, daughter: I do spy a kind of hope,  
Which craves as desperate an execution.  
As that is desperate which we would prevent.  
If, rather than to marry County Nida,  
Thou hast the strength of will to slay thyself,  
Then is it likely thou wilt undertake  
A thing like death to chide away this shame,  
That copest with death himself to scape from it:  
And, if thou darest, I'll give thee remedy.

RINOA  
O, bid me leap, rather than marry Nida,  
From off the battlements of yonder tower;  
Or walk in thievish ways; or bid me lurk  
Where serpents are; chain me with roaring bears;  
Or shut me nightly in a charnel-house,  
O'er-cover'd quite with dead men's rattling bones,  
With reeky shanks and yellow chapless skulls;  
Or bid me go into a new-made grave  
And hide me with a dead man in his shroud;  
Things that, to hear them told, have made me tremble;  
And I will do it without fear or doubt,  
To live an unstain'd wife to my sweet love.

FRIAR CID  
Hold, then; go home, be merry, give consent  
To marry Nida: Wednesday is to-morrow:  
To-morrow night look that thou lie alone;  
Let not thy Edea lie with thee in thy chamber:  
Take thou this vial, being then in bed,  
And this distilled liquor drink thou off;  
When presently through all thy veins shall run  
A cold and drowsy humour, for no pulse  
Shall keep his native progress, but surcease:  
No warmth, no breath, shall testify thou livest;  
The roses in thy lips and cheeks shall fade  
To paly ashes, thy eyes' windows fall,  
Like death, when he shuts up the day of life;  
Each part, deprived of supple government,  
Shall, stiff and stark and cold, appear like death:  
And in this borrow'd likeness of shrunk death  
Thou shalt continue two and forty hours,  
And then awake as from a pleasant sleep.  
Now, when the bridegroom in the morning comes  
To rouse thee from thy bed, there art thou dead:  
Then, as the manner of our country is,  
In thy best robes uncover'd on the bier  
Thou shalt be borne to that same ancient vault  
Where all the kindred of the Caraways lie.  
In the mean time, against thou shalt awake,  
Shall Squall by my letters know our drift,  
And hither shall he come: and he and I  
Will watch thy waking, and that very night  
Shall Squall bear thee hence to Mantua.  
And this shall free thee from this present shame;  
If no inconstant toy, nor womanish fear,  
Abate thy valour in the acting it.

RINOA  
Give me, give me! O, tell not me of fear!

FRIAR CID  
Hold; get you gone, be strong and prosperous  
In this resolve: I'll send a friar with speed  
To Mantua, with my letters to thy lord.

RINOA  
Love give me strength! and strength shall help afford.  
Farewell, dear father!

Exeunt

SCENE II. Hall in Caraway's house.

Enter CARAWAY, LADY CARAWAY, Edea, and two Servingmen  
CARAWAY  
So many guests invite as here are writ.

Exit First Servant

Sirrah, go hire me twenty cunning cooks.

Second Servant  
You shall have none ill, sir; for I'll try if they  
can lick their fingers.

CARAWAY  
How canst thou try them so?

Second Servant  
Marry, sir, 'tis an ill cook that cannot lick his  
own fingers: therefore he that cannot lick his  
fingers goes not with me.

CARAWAY  
Go, be gone.

Exit Second Servant

We shall be much unfurnished for this time.  
What, is my daughter gone to Friar Cid?

Edea  
Ay, forsooth.

CARAWAY  
Well, he may chance to do some good on her:  
A peevish self-will'd harlotry it is.

Edea  
See where she comes from shrift with merry look.

Enter RINOA

CARAWAY  
How now, my headstrong! where have you been gadding?

RINOA  
Where I have learn'd me to repent the sin  
Of disobedient opposition  
To you and your behests, and am enjoin'd  
By holy Cid to fall prostrate here,  
And beg your pardon: pardon, I beseech you!  
Henceforward I am ever ruled by you.

CARAWAY  
Send for the county; go tell him of this:  
I'll have this knot knit up to-morrow morning.

RINOA  
I met the youthful lord at Cid' cell;  
And gave him what becomed love I might,  
Not step o'er the bounds of modesty.

CARAWAY  
Why, I am glad on't; this is well: stand up:  
This is as't should be. Let me see the county;  
Ay, marry, go, I say, and fetch him hither.  
Now, afore God! this reverend holy friar,  
Our whole city is much bound to him.

RINOA  
Edea, will you go with me into my closet,  
To help me sort such needful ornaments  
As you think fit to furnish me to-morrow?

LADY CARAWAY  
No, not till Thursday; there is time enough.

CARAWAY  
Go, Edea, go with her: we'll to church to-morrow.

Exeunt RINOA and Edea

LADY CARAWAY  
We shall be short in our provision:  
'Tis now near night.

CARAWAY  
Tush, I will stir about,  
And all things shall be well, I warrant thee, wife:  
Go thou to Rinoa, help to deck up her;  
I'll not to bed to-night; let me alone;  
I'll play the housewife for this once. What, ho!  
They are all forth. Well, I will walk myself  
To County Nida, to prepare him up  
Against to-morrow: my heart is wondrous light,  
Since this same wayward girl is so reclaim'd.

Exeunt

SCENE III. Rinoa's chamber.

Enter RINOA and Edea  
RINOA  
Ay, those attires are best: but, gentle Edea,  
I pray thee, leave me to my self to-night,  
For I have need of many orisons  
To move the heavens to smile upon my state,  
Which, well thou know'st, is cross, and full of sin.

Enter LADY CARAWAY

LADY CARAWAY  
What, are you busy, ho? need you my help?

RINOA  
No, madam; we have cull'd such necessaries  
As are behoveful for our state to-morrow:  
So please you, let me now be left alone,  
And let the Edea this night sit up with you;  
For, I am sure, you have your hands full all,  
In this so sudden business.

LADY CARAWAY  
Good night:  
Get thee to bed, and rest; for thou hast need.

Exeunt LADY CARAWAY and Edea

RINOA  
Farewell! God knows when we shall meet again.  
I have a faint cold fear thrills through my veins,  
That almost freezes up the heat of life:  
I'll call them back again to comfort me:  
Edea! What should she do here?  
My dismal scene I needs must act alone.  
Come, vial.  
What if this mixture do not work at all?  
Shall I be married then to-morrow morning?  
No, no: this shall forbid it: lie thou there.

Laying down her dagger

What if it be a poison, which the friar  
Subtly hath minister'd to have me dead,  
Lest in this marriage he should be dishonour'd,  
Because he married me before to Squall?  
I fear it is: and yet, methinks, it should not,  
For he hath still been tried a holy man.  
How if, when I am laid into the tomb,  
I wake before the time that Squall  
Come to redeem me? there's a fearful point!  
Shall I not, then, be stifled in the vault,  
To whose foul mouth no healthsome air breathes in,  
And there die strangled ere my Squall comes?  
Or, if I live, is it not very like,  
The horrible conceit of death and night,  
Together with the terror of the place,--  
As in a vault, an ancient receptacle,  
Where, for these many hundred years, the bones  
Of all my buried ancestors are packed:  
Where bloody Seifer, yet but green in earth,  
Lies festering in his shroud; where, as they say,  
At some hours in the night spirits resort;--  
Alack, alack, is it not like that I,  
So early waking, what with loathsome smells,  
And shrieks like mandrakes' torn out of the earth,  
That living mortals, hearing them, run mad:--  
O, if I wake, shall I not be distraught,  
Environed with all these hideous fears?  
And madly play with my forefather's joints?  
And pluck the mangled Seifer from his shroud?  
And, in this rage, with some great kinsman's bone,  
As with a club, dash out my desperate brains?  
O, look! methinks I see my cousin's ghost  
Seeking out Squall, that did spit his body  
Upon a rapier's point: stay, Seifer, stay!  
Squall, I come! this do I drink to thee.

She falls upon her bed, within the curtains

SCENE IV. Hall in Caraway's house.

Enter LADY CARAWAY and Edea  
LADY CARAWAY  
Hold, take these keys, and fetch more spices, Edea.

Edea  
They call for dates and quinces in the pastry.

Enter CARAWAY

CARAWAY  
Come, stir, stir, stir! the second cock hath crow'd,  
The curfew-bell hath rung, 'tis three o'clock:  
Look to the baked meats, good Angelica:  
Spare not for the cost.

Edea  
Go, you cot-quean, go,  
Get you to bed; faith, You'll be sick to-morrow  
For this night's watching.

CARAWAY  
No, not a whit: what! I have watch'd ere now  
All night for lesser cause, and ne'er been sick.

LADY CARAWAY  
Ay, you have been a mouse-hunt in your time;  
But I will watch you from such watching now.

Exeunt LADY CARAWAY and Edea

CARAWAY  
A jealous hood, a jealous hood!

Enter three or four Servingmen, with spits, logs, and baskets

Now, fellow,  
What's there?

First Servant  
Things for the cook, sir; but I know not what.

CARAWAY  
Make haste, make haste.

Exit First Servant

Sirrah, fetch drier logs:  
Call Peter, he will show thee where they are.

Second Servant  
I have a head, sir, that will find out logs,  
And never trouble Peter for the matter.

Exit

CARAWAY  
Mass, and well said; a merry whoreson, ha!  
Thou shalt be logger-head. Good faith, 'tis day:  
The county will be here with music straight,  
For so he said he would: I hear him near.

Music within

Edea! Wife! What, ho! What, Edea, I say!

Re-enter Edea

Go waken Rinoa, go and trim her up;  
I'll go and chat with Nida: hie, make haste,  
Make haste; the bridegroom he is come already:  
Make haste, I say.

Exeunt

SCENE V. Rinoa's chamber.

Enter Edea  
Edea  
Mistress! what, mistress! Rinoa! fast, I warrant her, she:  
Why, lamb! why, lady! fie, you slug-a-bed!  
Why, love, I say! madam! sweet-heart! why, bride!  
What, not a word? you take your pennyworths now;  
Sleep for a week; for the next night, I warrant,  
The County Nida hath set up his rest,  
That you shall rest but little. God forgive me,  
Marry, and amen, how sound is she asleep!  
I must needs wake her. Madam, madam, madam!  
Ay, let the county take you in your bed;  
He'll fright you up, i' faith. Will it not be?

Undraws the curtains

What, dress'd! and in your clothes! and down again!  
I must needs wake you; Lady! lady! lady!  
Alas, alas! Help, help! my lady's dead!  
O, well-a-day, that ever I was born!  
Some aqua vitae, ho! My lord! my lady!

Enter LADY CARAWAY

LADY CARAWAY  
What noise is here?

Edea  
O lamentable day!

LADY CARAWAY  
What is the matter?

Edea  
Look, look! O heavy day!

LADY CARAWAY  
O me, O me! My child, my only life,  
Revive, look up, or I will die with thee!  
Help, help! Call help.

Enter CARAWAY

CARAWAY  
For shame, bring Rinoa forth; her lord is come.

Edea  
She's dead, deceased, she's dead; alack the day!

LADY CARAWAY  
Alack the day, she's dead, she's dead, she's dead!

CARAWAY  
Ha! let me see her: out, alas! she's cold:  
Her blood is settled, and her joints are stiff;  
Life and these lips have long been separated:  
Death lies on her like an untimely frost  
Upon the sweetest flower of all the field.

Edea  
O lamentable day!

LADY CARAWAY  
O woful time!

CARAWAY  
Death, that hath ta'en her hence to make me wail,  
Ties up my tongue, and will not let me speak.

Enter FRIAR CID and NIDA, with Musicians

FRIAR CID  
Come, is the bride ready to go to church?

CARAWAY  
Ready to go, but never to return.  
O son! the night before thy wedding-day  
Hath Death lain with thy wife. There she lies,  
Flower as she was, deflowered by him.  
Death is my son-in-law, Death is my heir;  
My daughter he hath wedded: I will die,  
And leave him all; life, living, all is Death's.

NIDA  
Have I thought long to see this morning's face,  
And doth it give me such a sight as this?

LADY CARAWAY  
Accursed, unhappy, wretched, hateful day!  
Most miserable hour that e'er time saw  
In lasting labour of his pilgrimage!  
But one, poor one, one poor and loving child,  
But one thing to rejoice and solace in,  
And cruel death hath catch'd it from my sight!

Edea  
O woe! O woful, woful, woful day!  
Most lamentable day, most woful day,  
That ever, ever, I did yet behold!  
O day! O day! O day! O hateful day!  
Never was seen so black a day as this:  
O woful day, O woful day!

NIDA  
Beguiled, divorced, wronged, spited, slain!  
Most detestable death, by thee beguil'd,  
By cruel cruel thee quite overthrown!  
O love! O life! not life, but love in death!

CARAWAY  
Despised, distressed, hated, martyr'd, kill'd!  
Uncomfortable time, why camest thou now  
To murder, murder our solemnity?  
O child! O child! my soul, and not my child!  
Dead art thou! Alack! my child is dead;  
And with my child my joys are buried.

FRIAR CID  
Peace, ho, for shame! confusion's cure lives not  
In these confusions. Heaven and yourself  
Had part in this fair maid; now heaven hath all,  
And all the better is it for the maid:  
Your part in her you could not keep from death,  
But heaven keeps his part in eternal life.  
The most you sought was her promotion;  
For 'twas your heaven she should be advanced:  
And weep ye now, seeing she is advanced  
Above the clouds, as high as heaven itself?  
O, in this love, you love your child so ill,  
That you run mad, seeing that she is well:  
She's not well married that lives married long;  
But she's best married that dies married young.  
Dry up your tears, and stick your rosemary  
On this fair corse; and, as the custom is,  
In all her best array bear her to church:  
For though fond nature bids us an lament,  
Yet nature's tears are reason's merriment.

CARAWAY  
All things that we ordained festival,  
Turn from their office to black funeral;  
Our instruments to melancholy bells,  
Our wedding cheer to a sad burial feast,  
Our solemn hymns to sullen dirges change,  
Our bridal flowers serve for a buried corse,  
And all things change them to the contrary.

FRIAR CID  
Sir, go you in; and, madam, go with him;  
And go, Sir Nida; every one prepare  
To follow this fair corse unto her grave:  
The heavens do lour upon you for some ill;  
Move them no more by crossing their high will.

Exeunt CARAWAY, LADY CARAWAY, NIDA, and FRIAR CID

First Musician  
Faith, we may put up our pipes, and be gone.

Edea  
Honest goodfellows, ah, put up, put up;  
For, well you know, this is a pitiful case.

Exit

First Musician  
Ay, by my troth, the case may be amended.

Enter PETER

PETER  
Musicians, O, musicians, 'Heart's ease, Heart's  
ease:' O, an you will have me live, play 'Heart's ease.'

First Musician  
Why 'Heart's ease?'

PETER  
O, musicians, because my heart itself plays 'My  
heart is full of woe:' O, play me some merry dump,  
to comfort me.

First Musician  
Not a dump we; 'tis no time to play now.

PETER  
You will not, then?

First Musician  
No.

PETER  
I will then give it you soundly.

First Musician  
What will you give us?

PETER  
No money, on my faith, but the gleek;  
I will give you the minstrel.

First Musician  
Then I will give you the serving-creature.

PETER  
Then will I lay the serving-creature's dagger on  
your pate. I will carry no crotchets: I'll re you,  
I'll fa you; do you note me?

First Musician  
An you re us and fa us, you note us.

Second Musician  
Pray you, put up your dagger, and put out your wit.

PETER  
Then have at you with my wit! I will dry-beat you  
with an iron wit, and put up my iron dagger. Answer  
me like men:  
'When griping grief the heart doth wound,  
And doleful dumps the mind oppress,  
Then music with her silver sound'--  
why 'silver sound'? why 'music with her silver  
sound'? What say you, Simon Catling?

Musician  
Marry, sir, because silver hath a sweet sound.

PETER  
Pretty! What say you, Hugh Rebeck?

Second Musician  
I say 'silver sound,' because musicians sound for silver.

PETER  
Pretty too! What say you, James Soundpost?

Third Musician  
Faith, I know not what to say.

PETER  
O, I cry you mercy; you are the singer: I will say  
for you. It is 'music with her silver sound,'  
because musicians have no gold for sounding:  
'Then music with her silver sound  
With speedy help doth lend redress.'

Exit

First Musician  
What a pestilent knave is this same!

Second Musician  
Hang him, Jack! Come, we'll in here; tarry for the  
mourners, and stay dinner.

Exeunt


	5. Chapter 5

ACT V

**ACT V  
SCENE I. Mantua. A street.**

Enter SQUALL  
SQUALL  
If I may trust the flattering truth of sleep,  
My dreams presage some joyful news at hand:  
My bosom's lord sits lightly in his throne;  
And all this day an unaccustom'd spirit  
Lifts me above the ground with cheerful thoughts.  
I dreamt my lady came and found me dead--  
Strange dream, that gives a dead man leave  
to think!--  
And breathed such life with kisses in my lips,  
That I revived, and was an emperor.  
Ah me! how sweet is love itself possess'd,  
When but love's shadows are so rich in joy!

Enter SELPHIE, booted

News from Verona!--How now, Selphie!  
Dost thou not bring me letters from the friar?  
How doth my lady? Is my father well?  
How fares my Rinoa? that I ask again;  
For nothing can be ill, if she be well.

SELPHIE  
Then she is well, and nothing can be ill:  
Her body sleeps in Capel's monument,  
And her immortal part with angels lives.  
I saw her laid low in her kindred's vault,  
And presently took post to tell it you:  
O, pardon me for bringing these ill news,  
Since you did leave it for my office, sir.

SQUALL  
Is it even so? then I defy you, stars!  
Thou know'st my lodging: get me ink and paper,  
And hire post-horses; I will hence to-night.

SELPHIE  
I do beseech you, sir, have patience:  
Your looks are pale and wild, and do import  
Some misadventure.

SQUALL  
Tush, thou art deceived:  
Leave me, and do the thing I bid thee do.  
Hast thou no letters to me from the friar?

SELPHIE  
No, my good lord.

SQUALL  
No matter: get thee gone,  
And hire those horses; I'll be with thee straight.

Exit SELPHIE

Well, Rinoa, I will lie with thee to-night.  
Let's see for means: O mischief, thou art swift  
To enter in the thoughts of desperate men!  
I do remember an apothecary,--  
And hereabouts he dwells,--which late I noted  
In tatter'd weeds, with overwhelming brows,  
Culling of simples; meagre were his looks,  
Sharp misery had worn him to the bones:  
And in his needy shop a tortoise hung,  
An alligator stuff'd, and other skins  
Of ill-shaped fishes; and about his shelves  
A beggarly account of empty boxes,  
Green earthen pots, bladders and musty seeds,  
Remnants of packthread and old cakes of roses,  
Were thinly scatter'd, to make up a show.  
Noting this penury, to myself I said  
'An if a man did need a poison now,  
Whose sale is present death in Mantua,  
Here lives a caitiff wretch would sell it him.'  
O, this same thought did but forerun my need;  
And this same needy man must sell it me.  
As I remember, this should be the house.  
Being holiday, the beggar's shop is shut.  
What, ho! apothecary!

Enter Apothecary

Apothecary  
Who calls so loud?

SQUALL  
Come hither, man. I see that thou art poor:  
Hold, there is forty ducats: let me have  
A dram of poison, such soon-speeding gear  
As will disperse itself through all the veins  
That the life-weary taker may fall dead  
And that the trunk may be discharged of breath  
As violently as hasty powder fired  
Doth hurry from the fatal cannon's womb.

Apothecary  
Such mortal drugs I have; but Mantua's law  
Is death to any he that utters them.

SQUALL  
Art thou so bare and full of wretchedness,  
And fear'st to die? famine is in thy cheeks,  
Need and oppression starveth in thine eyes,  
Contempt and beggary hangs upon thy back;  
The world is not thy friend nor the world's law;  
The world affords no law to make thee rich;  
Then be not poor, but break it, and take this.

Apothecary  
My poverty, but not my will, consents.

SQUALL  
I pay thy poverty, and not thy will.

Apothecary  
Put this in any liquid thing you will,  
And drink it off; and, if you had the strength  
Of twenty men, it would dispatch you straight.

SQUALL  
There is thy gold, worse poison to men's souls,  
Doing more murders in this loathsome world,  
Than these poor compounds that thou mayst not sell.  
I sell thee poison; thou hast sold me none.  
Farewell: buy food, and get thyself in flesh.  
Come, cordial and not poison, go with me  
To Rinoa's grave; for there must I use thee.

Exeunt

SCENE II. Friar Cid's cell.

Enter FRIAR JOHN  
FRIAR JOHN  
Holy Franciscan friar! brother, ho!

Enter FRIAR CID

FRIAR CID  
This same should be the voice of Friar John.  
Welcome from Mantua: what says Squall?  
Or, if his mind be writ, give me his letter.

FRIAR JOHN  
Going to find a bare-foot brother out  
One of our order, to associate me,  
Here in this city visiting the sick,  
And finding him, the searchers of the town,  
Suspecting that we both were in a house  
Where the infectious pestilence did reign,  
Seal'd up the doors, and would not let us forth;  
So that my speed to Mantua there was stay'd.

FRIAR CID  
Who bare my letter, then, to Squall?

FRIAR JOHN  
I could not send it,--here it is again,--  
Nor get a messenger to bring it thee,  
So fearful were they of infection.

FRIAR CID  
Unhappy fortune! by my brotherhood,  
The letter was not nice but full of charge  
Of dear import, and the neglecting it  
May do much danger. Friar John, go hence;  
Get me an iron crow, and bring it straight  
Unto my cell.

FRIAR JOHN  
Brother, I'll go and bring it thee.

Exit

FRIAR CID  
Now must I to the monument alone;  
Within three hours will fair Rinoa wake:  
She will beshrew me much that Squall  
Hath had no notice of these accidents;  
But I will write again to Mantua,  
And keep her at my cell till Squall come;  
Poor living corse, closed in a dead man's tomb!

Exit

SCENE III. A churchyard; in it a tomb belonging to the Caraways.

Enter NIDA, and his Page bearing flowers and a torch  
NIDA  
Give me thy torch, boy: hence, and stand aloof:  
Yet put it out, for I would not be seen.  
Under yond yew-trees lay thee all along,  
Holding thine ear close to the hollow ground;  
So shall no foot upon the churchyard tread,  
Being loose, unfirm, with digging up of graves,  
But thou shalt hear it: whistle then to me,  
As signal that thou hear'st something approach.  
Give me those flowers. Do as I bid thee, go.

PAGE  
Aside I am almost afraid to stand alone  
Here in the churchyard; yet I will adventure.

Retires

NIDA  
Sweet flower, with flowers thy bridal bed I strew,--  
O woe! thy canopy is dust and stones;--  
Which with sweet water nightly I will dew,  
Or, wanting that, with tears distill'd by moans:  
The obsequies that I for thee will keep  
Nightly shall be to strew thy grave and weep.

The Page whistles

The boy gives warning something doth approach.  
What cursed foot wanders this way to-night,  
To cross my obsequies and true love's rite?  
What with a torch! muffle me, night, awhile.

Retires

Enter SQUALL and SELPHIE, with a torch, mattock, & c

SQUALL  
Give me that mattock and the wrenching iron.  
Hold, take this letter; early in the morning  
See thou deliver it to my lord and father.  
Give me the light: upon thy life, I charge thee,  
Whate'er thou hear'st or seest, stand all aloof,  
And do not interrupt me in my course.  
Why I descend into this bed of death,  
Is partly to behold my lady's face;  
But chiefly to take thence from her dead finger  
A precious ring, a ring that I must use  
In dear employment: therefore hence, be gone:  
But if thou, jealous, dost return to pry  
In what I further shall intend to do,  
By heaven, I will tear thee joint by joint  
And strew this hungry churchyard with thy limbs:  
The time and my intents are savage-wild,  
More fierce and more inexorable far  
Than empty tigers or the roaring sea.

SELPHIE  
I will be gone, sir, and not trouble you.

SQUALL  
So shalt thou show me friendship. Take thou that:  
Live, and be prosperous: and farewell, good fellow.

SELPHIE  
Aside For all this same, I'll hide me hereabout:  
His looks I fear, and his intents I doubt.

Retires

SQUALL  
Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death,  
Gorged with the dearest morsel of the earth,  
Thus I enforce thy rotten jaws to open,  
And, in despite, I'll cram thee with more food!

Opens the tomb

NIDA  
This is that banish'd haughty Loire,  
That murder'd my love's cousin, with which grief,  
It is supposed, the fair creature died;  
And here is come to do some villanous shame  
To the dead bodies: I will apprehend him.

Comes forward

Stop thy unhallow'd toil, vile Loire!  
Can vengeance be pursued further than death?  
Condemned villain, I do apprehend thee:  
Obey, and go with me; for thou must die.

SQUALL  
I must indeed; and therefore came I hither.  
Good gentle youth, tempt not a desperate man;  
Fly hence, and leave me: think upon these gone;  
Let them affright thee. I beseech thee, youth,  
Put not another sin upon my head,  
By urging me to fury: O, be gone!  
By heaven, I love thee better than myself;  
For I come hither arm'd against myself:  
Stay not, be gone; live, and hereafter say,  
A madman's mercy bade thee run away.

NIDA  
I do defy thy conjurations,  
And apprehend thee for a felon here.

SQUALL  
Wilt thou provoke me? then have at thee, boy!

They fight

PAGE  
O Lord, they fight! I will go call the watch.

Exit

NIDA  
O, I am slain!

Falls

If thou be merciful,  
Open the tomb, lay me with Rinoa.

Dies

SQUALL  
In faith, I will. Let me peruse this face.  
Irvine's kinsman, noble County Nida!  
What said my man, when my betossed soul  
Did not attend him as we rode? I think  
He told me Nida should have married Rinoa:  
Said he not so? or did I dream it so?  
Or am I mad, hearing him talk of Rinoa,  
To think it was so? O, give me thy hand,  
One writ with me in sour misfortune's book!  
I'll bury thee in a triumphant grave;  
A grave? O no! a lantern, slaughter'd youth,  
For here lies Rinoa, and her beauty makes  
This vault a feasting presence full of light.  
Death, lie thou there, by a dead man interr'd.

Laying NIDA in the tomb

How oft when men are at the point of death  
Have they been merry! which their keepers call  
A lightning before death: O, how may I  
Call this a lightning? O my love! my wife!  
Death, that hath suck'd the honey of thy breath,  
Hath had no power yet upon thy beauty:  
Thou art not conquer'd; beauty's ensign yet  
Is crimson in thy lips and in thy cheeks,  
And death's pale flag is not advanced there.  
Seifer, liest thou there in thy bloody sheet?  
O, what more favour can I do to thee,  
Than with that hand that cut thy youth in twain  
To sunder his that was thine enemy?  
Forgive me, cousin! Ah, dear Rinoa,  
Why art thou yet so fair? shall I believe  
That unsubstantial death is amorous,  
And that the lean abhorred monster keeps  
Thee here in dark to be his paramour?  
For fear of that, I still will stay with thee;  
And never from this palace of dim night  
Depart again: here, here will I remain  
With worms that are thy chamber-maids; O, here  
Will I set up my everlasting rest,  
And shake the yoke of inauspicious stars  
From this world-wearied flesh. Eyes, look your last!  
Arms, take your last embrace! and, lips, O you  
The doors of breath, seal with a righteous kiss  
A dateless bargain to engrossing death!  
Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoury guide!  
Thou desperate pilot, now at once run on  
The dashing rocks thy sea-sick weary bark!  
Here's to my love!

Drinks

O true apothecary!  
Thy drugs are quick. Thus with a kiss I die.

Dies

Enter, at the other end of the churchyard, FRIAR CID, with a lantern, crow, and spade

FRIAR CID  
Saint Francis be my speed! how oft to-night  
Have my old feet stumbled at graves! Who's there?

SELPHIE  
Here's one, a friend, and one that knows you well.

FRIAR CID  
Bliss be upon you! Tell me, good my friend,  
What torch is yond, that vainly lends his light  
To grubs and eyeless skulls? as I discern,  
It burneth in the Capel's monument.

SELPHIE  
It doth so, holy sir; and there's my master,  
One that you love.

FRIAR CID  
Who is it?

SELPHIE  
Squall.

FRIAR CID  
How long hath he been there?

SELPHIE  
Full half an hour.

FRIAR CID  
Go with me to the vault.

SELPHIE  
I dare not, sir  
My master knows not but I am gone hence;  
And fearfully did menace me with death,  
If I did stay to look on his intents.

FRIAR CID  
Stay, then; I'll go alone. Fear comes upon me:  
O, much I fear some ill unlucky thing.

SELPHIE  
As I did sleep under this yew-tree here,  
I dreamt my master and another fought,  
And that my master slew him.

FRIAR CID  
Squall!

Advances

Alack, alack, what blood is this, which stains  
The stony entrance of this sepulchre?  
What mean these masterless and gory swords  
To lie discolour'd by this place of peace?

Enters the tomb

Squall! O, pale! Who else? what, Nida too?  
And steep'd in blood? Ah, what an unkind hour  
Is guilty of this lamentable chance!  
The lady stirs.

RINOA wakes

RINOA  
O comfortable friar! where is my lord?  
I do remember well where I should be,  
And there I am. Where is my Squall?

Noise within

FRIAR CID  
I hear some noise. Lady, come from that nest  
Of death, contagion, and unnatural sleep:  
A greater power than we can contradict  
Hath thwarted our intents. Come, come away.  
Thy husband in thy bosom there lies dead;  
And Nida too. Come, I'll dispose of thee  
Among a sisterhood of holy nuns:  
Stay not to question, for the watch is coming;  
Come, go, good Rinoa,

Noise again

I dare no longer stay.

RINOA  
Go, get thee hence, for I will not away.

Exit FRIAR CID

What's here? a cup, closed in my true love's hand?  
Poison, I see, hath been his timeless end:  
O churl! drunk all, and left no friendly drop  
To help me after? I will kiss thy lips;  
Haply some poison yet doth hang on them,  
To make die with a restorative.

Kisses him

Thy lips are warm.

First Watchman  
Within Lead, boy: which way?

RINOA  
Yea, noise? then I'll be brief. O happy dagger!

Snatching SQUALL's dagger

This is thy sheath;

Stabs herself

there rust, and let me die.

Falls on SQUALL's body, and dies

Enter Watch, with the Page of NIDA

PAGE  
This is the place; there, where the torch doth burn.

First Watchman  
The ground is bloody; search about the churchyard:  
Go, some of you, whoe'er you find attach.  
Pitiful sight! here lies the county slain,  
And Rinoa bleeding, warm, and newly dead,  
Who here hath lain these two days buried.  
Go, tell the prince: run to the Caraways:  
Raise up the Loires: some others search:  
We see the ground whereon these woes do lie;  
But the true ground of all these piteous woes  
We cannot without circumstance descry.

Re-enter some of the Watch, with SELPHIE

Second Watchman  
Here's Squall's woman; we found her in the churchyard.

First Watchman  
Hold her in safety, till the prince come hither.

Re-enter others of the Watch, with FRIAR CID

Third Watchman  
Here is a friar, that trembles, sighs and weeps:  
We took this mattock and this spade from him,  
As he was coming from this churchyard side.

First Watchman  
A great suspicion: stay the friar too.

Enter the PRINCE and Attendants

PRINCE  
What misadventure is so early up,  
That calls our person from our morning's rest?

Enter CARAWAY, LADY CARAWAY, and others

CARAWAY  
What should it be, that they so shriek abroad?

LADY CARAWAY  
The people in the street cry Squall,  
Some Rinoa, and some Nida; and all run,  
With open outcry toward our monument.

PRINCE  
What fear is this which startles in our ears?

First Watchman  
Sovereign, here lies the County Nida slain;  
And Squall dead; and Rinoa, dead before,  
Warm and new kill'd.

PRINCE  
Search, seek, and know how this foul murder comes.

First Watchman  
Here is a friar, and slaughter'd Squall's man;  
With instruments upon them, fit to open  
These dead men's tombs.

CARAWAY  
O heavens! O wife, look how our daughter bleeds!  
This dagger hath mista'en--for, lo, his house  
Is empty on the back of Loire,--  
And it mis-sheathed in my daughter's bosom!

LADY CARAWAY  
O me! this sight of death is as a bell,  
That warns my old age to a sepulchre.

Enter LOIRE and others

PRINCE  
Come, Loire; for thou art early up,  
To see thy son and heir more early down.

LOIRE  
Alas, my liege, my wife is dead to-night;  
Grief of my son's exile hath stopp'd her breath:  
What further woe conspires against mine age?

PRINCE  
Look, and thou shalt see.

LOIRE  
O thou untaught! what manners is in this?  
To press before thy father to a grave?

PRINCE  
Seal up the mouth of outrage for a while,  
Till we can clear these ambiguities,  
And know their spring, their head, their  
true descent;  
And then will I be general of your woes,  
And lead you even to death: meantime forbear,  
And let mischance be slave to patience.  
Bring forth the parties of suspicion.

FRIAR CID  
I am the greatest, able to do least,  
Yet most suspected, as the time and place  
Doth make against me of this direful murder;  
And here I stand, both to impeach and purge  
Myself condemned and myself excused.

PRINCE  
Then say at once what thou dost know in this.

FRIAR CID  
I will be brief, for my short date of breath  
Is not so long as is a tedious tale.  
Squall, there dead, was husband to that Rinoa;  
And she, there dead, that Squall's faithful wife:  
I married them; and their stol'n marriage-day  
Was Seifer's dooms-day, whose untimely death  
Banish'd the new-made bridegroom from the city,  
For whom, and not for Seifer, Rinoa pined.  
You, to remove that siege of grief from her,  
Betroth'd and would have married her perforce  
To County Nida: then comes she to me,  
And, with wild looks, bid me devise some mean  
To rid her from this second marriage,  
Or in my cell there would she kill herself.  
Then gave I her, so tutor'd by my art,  
A sleeping potion; which so took effect  
As I intended, for it wrought on her  
The form of death: meantime I writ to Squall,  
That he should hither come as this dire night,  
To help to take her from her borrow'd grave,  
Being the time the potion's force should cease.  
But he which bore my letter, Friar John,  
Was stay'd by accident, and yesternight  
Return'd my letter back. Then all alone  
At the prefixed hour of her waking,  
Came I to take her from her kindred's vault;  
Meaning to keep her closely at my cell,  
Till I conveniently could send to Squall:  
But when I came, some minute ere the time  
Of her awaking, here untimely lay  
The noble Nida and true Squall dead.  
She wakes; and I entreated her come forth,  
And bear this work of heaven with patience:  
But then a noise did scare me from the tomb;  
And she, too desperate, would not go with me,  
But, as it seems, did violence on herself.  
All this I know; and to the marriage  
Her Edea is privy: and, if aught in this  
Miscarried by my fault, let my old life  
Be sacrificed, some hour before his time,  
Unto the rigour of severest law.

PRINCE  
We still have known thee for a holy man.  
Where's Squall's man? what can he say in this?

SELPHIE  
I brought my master news of Rinoa's death;  
And then in post he came from Mantua  
To this same place, to this same monument.  
This letter he early bid me give his father,  
And threatened me with death, going in the vault,  
I departed not and left him there.

PRINCE  
Give me the letter; I will look on it.  
Where is the county's page, that raised the watch?  
Sirrah, what made your master in this place?

PAGE  
He came with flowers to strew his lady's grave;  
And bid me stand aloof, and so I did:  
Anon comes one with light to ope the tomb;  
And by and by my master drew on him;  
And then I ran away to call the watch.

PRINCE  
This letter doth make good the friar's words,  
Their course of love, the tidings of her death:  
And here he writes that he did buy a poison  
Of a poor 'pothecary, and therewithal  
Came to this vault to die, and lie with Rinoa.  
Where be these enemies? Caraway! Loire!  
See, what a scourge is laid upon your hate,  
That heaven finds means to kill your joys with love.  
And I for winking at your discords too  
Have lost a brace of kinsmen: all are punish'd.

CARAWAY  
O brother Loire, give me thy hand:  
This is my daughter's jointure, for no more  
Can I demand.

LOIRE  
But I can give thee more:  
For I will raise her statue in pure gold;  
That while Verona by that name is known,  
There shall no figure at such rate be set  
As that of true and faithful Rinoa.

CARAWAY  
As rich shall Squall's by his lady's lie;  
Poor sacrifices of our enmity!

PRINCE  
A glooming peace this morning with it brings;  
The sun, for sorrow, will not show his head:  
Go hence, to have more talk of these sad things;  
Some shall be pardon'd, and some punished:  
For never was a story of more woe  
Than this of Rinoa and her Squall.

Exeunt


End file.
